Little Red Car

Today, as I was driving home with my oldest son after one of his many activities, I got stuck behind a little red car that was moving incredibly slowly.  The moment I made the decision to follow this car around the jug handle, I was sure I had make a terrible mistake.  As we rounded the turn toward the traffic light going 10 miles per hour, the driver pumped his brakes to warn me to slow down, as if I could possibly go any more slowly.  Then, as the car moved through the intersection at 15 miles per hour, the driver beeped the horn repeatedly to let people approaching the intersection know that he was coming through.  

At first, my son and I were frustrated.  Each of us had had a long day, and we were worn out and hungry and ready to get home and relax.  As we crept along behind this little red car, we made a thousand guesses as to why this individual would possibly be going so very slowly – elderly? concerned about ice? or perhaps a child was driving the car?  After all, we could barely see the driver’s head above the steering wheel.  We shouted, “Oh please, I’m begging you, pick up the pace!” and joked to ease the tension.  

On the long, winding road between the highway and the center of our little town, we had no choice but to go the same maddeningly slow speed as this little red car.  The double yellow line stretches all the way from end to end on this particular road – too hill-y and turn-y to allow for safe passing.  Somewhere along the line, as we crept toward our destination, and as my son continued his impatient rant, I decided to shift from frustration to acceptance and started to practice being in the moment.

Once I accepted that I wouldn’t be moving any more quickly, not surprisingly, my whole experience changed.  The movement of the cars, both mine and my leader’s, became rhythmical and soothing.  The ups and downs and lefts and rights along the road began to feel like a sort of Tai Chi for the harried driver.  I tried to calm my anxious passenger.  “Wow, this is actually kind of relaxing, isn’t it?” I said to my son.  He wasn’t quite ready to shift to that Zen place, but I consciously slowed my breathing and began to look at the rest of our trip home as a gift – a few peaceful moments before the rush of dinner and homework and chores and all of the other endless distractions that pull me away from myself on a regular basis.

This was another one of those times when a seemingly unfavorable situation forced me to slow down and allowed me an opportunity to re-connect to my center.  I’m not sure I believe God is responsible for my getting stuck behind that little red car today - I think maybe I just have life to thank for that.  But I am sure that God was there once I decided to shift my attention.  And it's comforting to know that all it takes is that little shift to put me back in touch with that constant, loving presence.

~REBECCA