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 can
still remember when it was just me—self-assured, confident,
and proud of my ability to maneuver my car along life's road.
I was master of my fate. I loved those solitary hours on the
highway, watching the sun sink below the horizon. I loved the
feel of the wheels gripping the road. I loved being able to
go anywhere at a whim, wherever suited my fancy at the moment.
Life was all mine to enjoy, and I did my best to live it up.
Sure, there were hard times too—lonely, dark stretches
of road in the night that seemed to almost swallow me up, times
when I had to lie flat on my back in the mud, trying to find
a mechanical problem or stop an oil leak, times when I had to
replace a blown tire in scorching sun or pouring rain, moments
of confusion and frustration attempting to reverse out of dead
ends. No, being alone wasn't all fun and games, but I always
managed to brush off those unfortunate incidents and set out
again in search of new adventures. |
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Then
one day You hitched a ride. When I asked where You were going,
You said, "Wherever you're going," and I soon discovered
a wonderful friendship. You were always there to hold the map
and to give directions when I was lost. Somehow all the routes
were known to You. You were there too in the darkness of those
long night drives, to hold my hand when I was afraid and lonely.
Somehow Your presence always made the darkness bright. You were
there to push when I needed to get back onto the road after
my quest for adventure would land me in a ditch. Somehow You
understood my disappointment, and You never said, "I told
you so." You were even there to embrace and forgive after
I foolishly argued with You and told You to get out of my life.
Somehow You kept loving me and having faith in me. But still
I insisted on driving. "After all, it's my car," I
would remind You. And although I was thankful for Your advice
and directions, the final decision always rested with me. "After
all, it's my life." |
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Miles
and miles flew by, and still I insisted on remaining in the
driver's seat, ignoring Your offers to take control—that
is, until the day I totaled my car. Humiliated and heartbroken,
my dream car in pieces, I finally handed You the car keys. With
a smile of relief, You rolled up Your sleeves and went to work
making repairs. In no time we were back on the road, with You
as the driver and me |
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as
the passenger. Relinquishing control had been far more difficult
than I had expected.
"Hey!" I would yell,
lunging at the steering wheel. "What are You doing? I thought
we'd agreed to go that way!" Immediately You would brake
and patiently wait until I had stopped struggling to regain
control, and then would turn to me and say with all the tenderness
of a father explaining to his child, "Trust Me. I know
what I am doing." Reluctantly I would surrender and sit,
chafing in my seat until we turned the next corner. Suddenly
it would |
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become
abundantly clear that You did know where You were taking me,
and I would turn to You with a look of amazement at Your wisdom
and foresight.
But that was a lesson I would
soon forget, and before long I'd be at it again. We would pass
an amusement, and I would whine, "Hey, why didn't You stop?"
You would only turn and smile knowingly, "Trust Me. I have
something far better up ahead." And sure enough, there
was always something far better—something I never would
have dreamed possible.
After a while I grew accustomed
to Your driving. I learned to sit on my hands and bite my tongue
when Your ways ran contrary to mine, forcing myself to patiently
wait until the next bend in the road revealed the surprise behind
that mysterious smile of Yours. |
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Blowouts
and wrong turns became a thing of the past too, as were my frantic
searches for happiness and excitement. There never seemed to
be a dull moment with You in the driver's seat.
That's not to say there weren't
momentary disappointments, like the times You turned down lonely,
dusty roads, and it was just the two of us for miles. But those
lonely routes led to some of the most breathtaking views, panoramas
full of hidden, mysterious beauty that You had reserved for
us alone. There were also times when You chose routes that led
through places I had always dreaded—dark, sunless valleys
and canyons. Why here? I would silently protest. And You could
always tell. "Trust Me," You would say. "Have
I ever failed you before?" As I forced my soul to be still
and trust, I found strength and courage I had never known I
had.
Since the day that You took the
wheel, I've experienced breathtaking heights and valleys with
a beauty all their own, the thrill of adventure, incredible
happiness, and love without measure. You were right. I would
never regret a life spent with You at the wheel. |
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