The vast majority of people I know hate getting stuck in traffic. Some of my co-workers will stay at work, off the clock to avoid running into busy school bus routes. Some of my classmates will leave over a half an hour early to avoid lunch hour congestion to travel through downtown.
While I will often give myself plenty of time to get from point A to point B, it is generally never to avoid. On the contrary, it is to allow for time "wasted" sitting in traffic. Whether it's on I65 heading to work, I64 to or from school, or just local roads heading across town, somehow or another, I always end up spending time stuck in traffic. So, aside from planning on, and jamming to the radio, I have discovered a number of ways to get through those long moments when one can't to anything but stare at the same three license plates.
So here are some of the things I do, to keep patience and not get overly frustrated with time lost in transit:
1) Turn off the radio and look out at the horizon. Taking in the beauty of the moment often serves to help take my mind off of the fact that I have moved three feet in the past five minutes. Look at the trees or buildings. Take a few moments to cloud-watch. Check out the stars, if you're caught in night road construction.
2) People watch. Now, obviously be careful because heavy traffic is often prime-time to run into someone experiencing road-rage, so don't make eye contact with someone visibly irritated. Instead, look at some of the makes and models of cars around. Imagine who these people might be and where they are going, or what they are leaving. The man in the Volkswagen just in front of you may be a frugal middle-class businessman who's fallen on hard times. Maybe he needs prayer because he was recently laid off and his wife is threatening to leave him because he can't support her and their two children on his unemployment check. Just people watch and imagine some scenarios.
3) Take some time to pray. I know it may sound odd, but picture God sitting in the seat next to you. Tell Him about your day, your relationships, your dreams. Ask Him questions like "God, what do you think about last night's news? I know that story about Pakistan was really depressing, but there has to be some good in that part of the world, right? You know, I think I heard something about missionaries going over to help feed some of those starving children. Thank You for those people." Speak to Him out loud; it makes it more real, at least for me. And don't worry about if other people are looking at you funny, they think you're singing along with the radio.
So next time you find yourself stuck in traffic, don't get frustrated, practice love. Practice the presence of God, and remember, at least this traffic jam is not going to last for 9 days like this one in China:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20100823/sc_afp/chinaroadtraffic
Showing posts with label Drive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drive. Show all posts
Monday, August 23, 2010
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Breaking Down
So, I have a story okay? I'm sure some of you have heard it, but it bears recording, and also a close resemblance to my last post (the one about expectations). I was driving home from my grandparents' home this past Friday morning. While driving on a particularly long stretch of highway, my radio loses clears signal from all the local Christian radio stations. In fact, at this point in the journey, I have two options to listen to: talk radio or country. This particular day I was not interested in country and I've never been overly fond of talk radio. So, I made a decision, one that for me was quite odd at first.
I turned off the radio. Then, I tried to imagine that God was in the car with me, sitting right next to me, and we talked. It sounds weird, but it actually got rather comfortable. The reason that I wanted to sit down and talk with God had a lot to do with my plans for the future. I've been tossing around ideas about what I would like to do after graduation, which include things absolutely detested by my family. Specifically, I have been contemplating the idea of attempting to join the police force. My mother is against this because it is obviously dangerous, and I have yet to explain this to my grandparents, because the pay is barely over that of a beginning teacher. So, I determined that the person that I should really be talk to is not my mom, or my grandma, but my Father. We talked about earthly authorities, Paul's imprisonment, and worldly aspirations. It was indeed a most interesting conversation, in which I learned that I had no control over my own life.
Not that God had complete control of my life, but that I had freely given the reins to my family, whose intentions were good, but whose methods have caused me to lose my own identity in life. Now, I know that this sounds like an awfully big claim, but do realize that this is no exaggeration. God told me that I need to depend on Him for peace and rest, because I do continually run myself ragged. The past few weeks have been especially rough, and I have had little rest, little real rest. Because of all this running and so little soul rest, I found myself on the verge of a true breakdown just a few short hours later, on my way to work.
I felt the pang of knowledge that something in my life was most horribly wrong, yet I could not tell what is was nor how to solve it. I felt utterly powerless, and without time or place to turn to. Also, the need to dry my eyes before entering into my place of employment was eminent. So, as expertly as ever, I quickly and quietly stowed away my emotions and pain and went on in the world as if nothing we wrong.
The following day, I again found myself on the edge overlooking the cliffs losing everything that is myself and yet not myself. I was driving home from work, and off course, purposing passing my church. I needed a home, a sanctuary, a place that I knew I was wrapped in the arms of love. As a slap in the face, all eight doors into the church was locked from the inside. I sat in my Father's garden and wept at being a wounded prodigal denied peace. Somehow, though, in my tears it was made known to me that while I was suffering, there will eventually be peace, though I know not when.
I turned off the radio. Then, I tried to imagine that God was in the car with me, sitting right next to me, and we talked. It sounds weird, but it actually got rather comfortable. The reason that I wanted to sit down and talk with God had a lot to do with my plans for the future. I've been tossing around ideas about what I would like to do after graduation, which include things absolutely detested by my family. Specifically, I have been contemplating the idea of attempting to join the police force. My mother is against this because it is obviously dangerous, and I have yet to explain this to my grandparents, because the pay is barely over that of a beginning teacher. So, I determined that the person that I should really be talk to is not my mom, or my grandma, but my Father. We talked about earthly authorities, Paul's imprisonment, and worldly aspirations. It was indeed a most interesting conversation, in which I learned that I had no control over my own life.
Not that God had complete control of my life, but that I had freely given the reins to my family, whose intentions were good, but whose methods have caused me to lose my own identity in life. Now, I know that this sounds like an awfully big claim, but do realize that this is no exaggeration. God told me that I need to depend on Him for peace and rest, because I do continually run myself ragged. The past few weeks have been especially rough, and I have had little rest, little real rest. Because of all this running and so little soul rest, I found myself on the verge of a true breakdown just a few short hours later, on my way to work.
I felt the pang of knowledge that something in my life was most horribly wrong, yet I could not tell what is was nor how to solve it. I felt utterly powerless, and without time or place to turn to. Also, the need to dry my eyes before entering into my place of employment was eminent. So, as expertly as ever, I quickly and quietly stowed away my emotions and pain and went on in the world as if nothing we wrong.
The following day, I again found myself on the edge overlooking the cliffs losing everything that is myself and yet not myself. I was driving home from work, and off course, purposing passing my church. I needed a home, a sanctuary, a place that I knew I was wrapped in the arms of love. As a slap in the face, all eight doors into the church was locked from the inside. I sat in my Father's garden and wept at being a wounded prodigal denied peace. Somehow, though, in my tears it was made known to me that while I was suffering, there will eventually be peace, though I know not when.
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