Divine Intervention
In the early 90’s, a friend and I tried out rollerblading on a slick, empty parking garage on Houston’s Allen Parkway and though she was ultimately meh about it, from that first attempt, I was hooked. Thereafter, I’d pull up to the Picnic Loop at Memorial Park after work, pop the trunk, strap my rollerblades on my feet and my Walkman on my arm, and hit my playlist. The first track was always What’s the Frequency Kenneth? by REM, the opening chords fueling my initial sprint. I’d skate nine miles all out without stopping, in all seasons, unless the temps dropped into the 50’s.
I’d recently moved to Houston from Boston with a severely broken heart. Not from a breakup with a boy, but a breakup with God. It started with my disillusionment with the leadership of the ministry I had devoted myself to but ultimately lead to the questioning of my beliefs and even my sanity. I was going to do a complete church cleanse but stumbled upon a little church in the Heights which kept me tethered somewhat, the ragtag congregation that called themselves EBOs—evangelical burnouts—and I could relate to them. For a time.
Eventually, though, I could not endure the growing distance I felt on Sundays. It began to feel like they were all in swimming in an aquarium and I was banished outside of the glass. I dearly remembered what it felt like to be in the water and each time I showed up I was reminded again of what I had lost. The grief was enormous. So great I stopped attending. Instead, I skated. Lap after lap, unable to outrun my devastated heart. While in this exile, my youngest brother committed suicide. I understood nothing. The loop became my Trail of Tears, movement and music and miles my survival therapy.
Does He love us?
Does He love us?
Does He love us?
Does He love us?
~Matthew Sweet, Divine Intervention
Back then, you had to tediously rewind your cassette tapes, run on A2 batteries that always ran out too soon, to replay a song. Compared to the back button today, it felt like it took ages. I rewound “Divine Intervention” ad infinitum, and sang it on my laps like a prayer I could not stop praying.
I was back there recently, circling again under the big oaks, wondering if they remembered me after half a lifetime and what their opinion is. Did they remember hearing me sing?