We were already late.
I had to drive because my bathing suit had gotten the seat too wet for Jay.
Then it started to rain. Hard. Like the maybe-I-should-pull-over kind of rain.
There was a cop following me.
“MommyMommyMommyMommy,” came from the back seat in typical Bubba fashion.
The this-is-a-test beep was on the radio, only it wasn’t a test this time.
Flashing lights from an accident up ahead.
Knuckles getting whiter and whiter.
I remember something I forgot to bring for dinner.
And then it hits me.
Let the peace of God rule in your hearts….and be thankful.
I’ve been working these verses of Colossians 3 over and over…in the car when Chica doesn’t protest too much, when Jay will hold the tattered paper and follow along, when I’m sitting in the rocker beside Bubba’s bed waiting for the right moment to exit.
And it’s slowly starting to feel like the message of Christ (at least this tiny little piece of it) is seeping down from my lips to my head to my heart. Dwelling richly in me.
Ordinarily, during a car ride like this, I would have been thinking any and all of these things:
I can’t do this.
I hate driving in the rain.
Shutupshutupshutup, this is already hard enough.
He should have just driven. His knuckles are probably as white as mine.
How dumb do you have to be to forget the salsa when serving Mexican?
Ok, so if I’m honest, I guess I really did think all of those things. But after just a pass or two, I consciously made the effort to breathe in the peace and breathe out the thankfulness.
The rain slowed down.
The little people remained calm.
We were late, but it just didn’t matter. Our new friends are full of grace.
And she had salsa.
Two jars, actually.
Image: Rain © Knick Banas | Flickr Creative Commons