David McElroy

As sheriff’s deputies directed the removal of furniture from her apartment, Alison sat on the front steps looking at her phone. Her bright pink t-shirt had glowing orange letters that said, “This is my lucky t-shirt.”

But after nine months of not paying rent and violating other terms of her lease, Alison’s luck had run out.

When I met her last year — when she applied to rent from me — I felt sorry for Alison. She told me about her difficult past. A failed marriage to a dysfunctional man. Drug issues and recovery. Financial problems. But she said she had turned everything around. Her supervisor at work gave her a glowing endorsement.

In the five years that I’ve been managing rentals for my company, she’s the only person I’ve regretted renting to. She left owing us thousands and thousands of dollars. Cleaning up and repairing the apartment will cost even more.

But as she sat there in her lucky t-shirt — two days after having her third child — I still felt sorry for her. And it hurt my heart to think about what could have brought this attractive blue-eyed blonde to such despair.

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I recently watched a little boy trying to get candy from one of those old-fashioned gumball machines. I rarely see such machines now, but I was in a neighborhood hardware store that hasn’t changed much since the 1950s.

The boy was frustrated, because he couldn’t figure out how to work the machine. He kept trying to place a quarter inside the chute where the gum or candy comes out. He tried to turn the crank, but he didn’t understand that the quarter had to be placed into a slot.

I attempted to show him where to put the quarter, but he wouldn’t listen. He was angry at the machine and ignored me — and kept making the same mistake.

“It’ll never work that way,” I gently told him in a friendly way, “because you’re doing it wrong.”

In the last few days, I’ve found myself thinking about that little boy. I’ve been watching all of the unhappiness and anger and misery of the world around me. I’ve been thinking about the things I see people doing that I know are never going to give them peace and joy. And I keep thinking about what God must think when he looks at his creatures.

“Your lives are never going to work this way,” he must think, “because you’re doing it all wrong.”

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I was in the middle of a ride. Nothing unusual happened. It was just a normal roller coaster ride. But something in me suddenly decided that I was through with roller coasters.

I was done. Finished. I felt oddly relieved.

It was 14 years ago. I had taken an ex-girlfriend to Orlando to visit Disney World and Universal Studios. We were on a roller coaster at Universal. I can put myself back into that moment with absolute clarity. Time suddenly slowed for me. It was as though I withdrew into myself for a moment.

I wasn’t scared or alarmed by anything. There was absolutely nothing that triggered it. I just knew that I didn’t want to ride that sort of ride anymore. I had always loved roller coasters, but I suddenly knew — in a flash — that I was done.

I had another moment like that today. I don’t know what triggered it. I have no idea why something inside me changed. But as I thought about something which I’ve passionately wanted for years, I suddenly knew that I didn’t want it anymore.

For years, I had been on a roller coaster that someone else controlled. And I suddenly didn’t want to ride that roller coaster anymore. I was finished. And I felt relieved.

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