Mapping Unchartered Territory

With school back in swing, I have a small sense of being adrift in unfamiliar waters. Getting up early and getting the kids to school is something I know how to do and am good at.  But that time between dropping them off and picking them up is unchartered territory for me.

Of course I still have two jobs; split between working at church and tutoring, and once I show up for one I know what to do.  It's the little details that have me confused.

How do I get to work?

For the past several years my school routine has been drop off at school followed by the trek down Hulen to get to church to take Paul to preschool.  Monday I didn't need to go to church but found myself driving there anyway.  I can take a more direct route to school but was mixed up on how to get there.

When I was a teacher, I learned that voicing your thoughts ( called thinking aloud) was a strategy that helped children develop their own thought processes.  I am so used to "thinking aloud" that I have forgotten how to "think silently."  I find myself in the car saying, "I'm going to need to turn right when I see the green sign."  On Monday I took a wrong turn and felt like cursing but kept it under my breath.  The empty car just might get offended.

Yesterday as I finished my church work I kept waiting for the little knock on my office door.  Paul didn't come to tell me preschool was over for the day and I kept on working.  I discussed to an empty car whether or not I would have time to buy a frozen pizza at Kroger before school let out.  I did and the car agreed.

We are all so happy to have school back in session.  Both children adore their teachers and Adam and I are thrilled.  Adam's routine remains the same.  Mama, however, has to relearn how to think and arrive at locations without children.

Looking backward while going forward

Last weekend Adam and I drove two cars to his parent's house in Grapevine. He was coming from the barbershop and I was coming from the mechanic. We were on the same highway at the same time, but I was a little bit ahead of him.
I drove the exact speed limit the entire time so he could catch up and I could wave at the kids. He never caught up. I reached our destination and waited there.
The entire time I was driving, I was looking in the rear view mirror. Of course I also looked out through the windshield, but mostly I was looking backward.
Then I realized I couldn't move forward safely or swiftly while I was looking behind me. And then I realized my situation was a parallel to my life.
We all have things in our past that we hope or fear will catch up with us. Maybe it's something good, like a moment whene everything was perfect. Or maybe it's something bad, like an argument that replays over and over in our heads. Either way, we can't move forward if we're constantly looking backward.
Because I slowed down to find Adam, the world whizzed past me. I was stuck in the right hand lane, looking at my rear view mirror and everyone else was looking out their windshield moving on. When you're focusing on the past, the present will pass you by.
It's also dangerous to focus on what's behind you. I could have been in an accident. If something had happened right in front of me, I wouldn't have been prepared to deal with it. Living in the past means you're not prepared to deal with the future.
So for safety reasons, as well as metaphor reasons, I will no longer drive forward while looking backward.

Pace Car

Though I was born in the South and am white, I am not a NASCAR fan. Adam and I have been to a couple of races at the Texas Motor Speedway, but that was only because we got free tickets in the mail from Marlboro. (We posed as smokers one night at a concert. Didn't have to actually smoke, just say that we did, and boom, we get all sorts of gifts in the mail from them.)

Before the race starts, they have a few warm-up laps, where the drivers drive around the speedway behind a pace car. They're not allowed to pass up the pace car. There are reasons for that.

As I've gotten older, my driving has slowed down. Don't get me wrong; I have a history of wild driving, and the driving record to prove it. Adam thinks I drive like an old lady now. Somedays, though, the temperature is just right, the windows are down, and I'm rocking out and hitting the gas. I'll be zooming along and then have to slam on my breaks because some jerk in front of me is actually going the speed limit. After I hit the brakes and take a deep breath, I usually see a police officer on the side of the road. Then I thank God for putting the pace car in front of me and saving me from a ticket or a wreck.

I think God often puts pace cars in front of me to slow me down. Sometimes my pace car is one of my elderly friends. I'll go over to Jo's house, and time will stand still. Sometimes it's one of my children, who bring a toy to me and remind me that there are more important activities than housework. Sometimes it's a stranger who offers a small act of kindness when I'm struggling.

Even as a stay-at-home mom, my life runs a break-neck speeds. I am grateful when I am forced to slow down and appreciate life. Pace cars are blessings.