Shots in the Dark

My dad says that when I was little, before I could even read, I would “read” to him. Instead of him reading me the bed time story I would be the storyteller, making up the words on the page as I went.

Let me read it to you, Dad.

My dad got engaged over the weekend and he didn’t bother to tell me or my sister. I can honestly say that at first, yeah, I took it personally. I mean, who does that? But then it occurred to me. Dad does that. I don’t do things like that. My sister doesn’t do things like that. Other men don’t do things like that.

Dad does that.

It’s been difficult lately to picture myself getting married. Walking down the aisle, saying the vows, even the premarital counseling. I can’t envision it in my mind. I’ve been wondering lately what it will be like, come June, when I’m up late reading a book in bed and turn over and there on my left, J. My handsome J, snoring away.




Traffic. I never seem to do well with it. I live maybe only 10 minutes away from my job but a couple nights ago, no not on Friday, it took me almost 30 minutes. The road I live on was backed up to kingdom come and police were everywhere. There had been an accident, but I didn’t know how bad. I only knew that two lanes were merging into one and that would require me to signal and get over in an uncomfortable way. Does anyone ever let anyone over? Sure, when there’s an accident people are more cautious. But overall no one wants to let anyone get over because the fact is we all want to be first to get ahead! So I sat there behind the wheel, heart racing. Would anyone let me over in this sea of lights?

Well sure enough, someone did. He didn’t honk his horn in his big truck and he didn’t rush me along. He just waited for me to get over.

The relief! I waved at him as I passed and 5 minutes later I was home and getting ready to go out to dinner with my mom. We’d talked about our date for days.

My knees shook a little bit when I got out of my car. What can I say? I just really don’t like traffic. But it got me thinking on my way to work the next morning, you know, when we are imagining who God is and trying to picture how he is in our lives, that it really is quite simple.

I’m the one who lets you over in traffic, He says. I do not rush you along and I do not honk my horn at you. I patiently wait for you, so you can get by.

I laughed at this and shared it with my therapist on Thursday. She said she loved it.

I do, too.