Driving in Snow

I live where people are afraid of snow. Having grown up in the north, it’s sometimes difficult to understand closing schools before a flake has fallen and clearing the grocery stores of all bread and milk. I have to remember I grew up with snow, they didn’t; I learned how to drive in snow, they didn’t.

And yet, watching people cloistered in their homes for days because there’s snow on the ground, seeing cars drive off the road because they think snow makes no difference, or getting stuck because they crawl along shows me how fear causes people to respond in different ways. It shows me how dangerous fear can be . . . with or without inclement weather.

Fear can make people hide in their homes (or self-created places of safety) instead of engaging with the world outside. It can make people act brave and hit the gas as if they’re invincible. It can also cause some to slow to a crawl where it’s only a matter of time before they get stuck.

The issue is not the weather, or the way life shows up. It’s the fear and the way it controls us that matters. As people of faith, we accept that fact that life comes on clear and snowy days. How we navigate our way through varies, but the key is getting in the car and learning how to drive in all conditions - that, and knowing we’re not making our way alone.       

Tattooed Longings

The date was etched on his right bicep. It must be an important date, I said to myself as I looked across the room. “That’s his original sobriety date,” someone told me after the meeting. “He made the cardinal sin of tattooing it on his arm. Turns out he went back out a few times since then.” I shook my head thinking about having such a reminder engraved on my arm, a constant reminder of later mistakes.

But I’ve come to see his tattoo in a different light. He was probably overjoyed with his decision to get sober, and the joy of the early days of sobriety led him to crystalize the decision. Unfortunately, that joy didn’t withstand the challenges that were to come, but instead of bemoaning or regretting the date on his arm, I think it speaks to the desire that was deep within him . . . the desire that matters . . the desire that’s worth remembering.

Looking back at my life, I see countless failed attempts at things. The list seems endless and rather than fill the page with longings that were not realized, I take comfort in the fact that I had the longings at all.

“I know the secrets of your heart,” scripture says, and I believe that’s true. We may not live perfect lives, we may promise things we don’t keep, but God sees beyond our many failures to the secret, sincere longings of our hearts, the longings that made us promise in the first place. I think that’s what grace looks like - being able to see beyond our failures to the longing of our hearts.

The man sitting across from me turned his life and will over to the care of God on a specific date. None of that changes because he drank again. The longing that was there on that specific date remains, and because of God’s grace he’s sitting among us again.

If only we allowed such grace with other unkept promises. If only we were able to focus on the longing that lies deep within our hearts.

Staying in one's Lane

I was recently pulled over by the police. I waited in the once-familiar blue lights as the officer approached and informed me that he pulled me over because I was swerving. “How many drinks have you had this evening,” he asked, to which I informed him my last drink was twenty years ago. Not believing me, he gave me a breathalyzer test which proved my innocence. He let me go without a citation, but the experience left me rattled.

The next morning, my wife and I were discussing a struggle I was having as a volunteer at a local non-profit. (Having worked in such a world, it’s easy to put on my non-profit CEO hat without knowing it.) She reminded me that I needed to “stay in my lane,” as she put it. Between the moment with police and the advice from my wife, it was clear I had some reflecting to do. Seems I have a swerving issue. I need to learn how to stay in my lane.

Perhaps, I’m not alone.

I drive fast. It gives me a sense of purpose. Reaching a destination in record times feels like an achievement. When my wife offers her familiar refrain, “There’s joy in the journey,” I try not to roll my eyes. So, too, I like to get things done quickly, but my pace often leaves others drowning in my wake. Swerving from lane to lane, I try to get wherever I’m going as fast as I can, sometimes forgetting to use my blinker. No wonder I confuse and frustrate others.

In a group to which I belong, they speak of being driven by a hundred forms of fear, and I know, deep down, that fear often causes me to swerve out of my lane. Fear wears many masks and control is one of them. It fools me into thinking I know better, have found a faster route, and causes me to plow ahead regardless of the collateral damage. Whether it’s a committee’s work, a domestic dilemma, or a child’s choice, the temptation to swerve into someone else’s lane is constant.

Accepting life on life’s terms is difficult. Accepting people, places, and things as they are is a life-long challenge. “That’s where faith comes in,” a wise friend pointed out. “Those people, places, and things are as loved by God as you are. Why not get out of the way and let God do God’s thing?” In other words, stop swerving and stay in your own lane?

It’s an important lesson, but it’s one that’s easy to forget. Staying in our lanes and not running the show is an act of faith. It allows God to be God, and you and me to be who we are. As difficult as it may be, it’s actually a tremendous gift.