Last week, my dear friend Jessica was in town. She stayed with me and helped with VBS every night at my church. It was a fun week. At one point, we were driving back to my place in the rain and I looked out my passenger-side window to see much water pushed up into the air. It was beautiful. Against the dark, grassy backdrop, the water glistened with splendor only water is capable of. (PS: I love the Beautiful Creator of water.) After the water had fallen and we were a few feet further up the road, I said to Jessica: “Wow, I’m surprised you didn’t hydroplane.” She said, “I did.”
“Oh.”
It’s nice, isn’t it? To be the one in the passenger seat unaware of some of the possible dangers you’ve avoided. Jessica, the driver, realized we were hydroplaning (just a bit, probably). I didn’t. I was completely unaware of the possibility of injury because I wasn’t driving. I was too busy enjoying the beautiful sprays of water.
I wonder how many times this has happened when I’ve let Him be the driver. I wonder if that’s what’s going on right now. Maybe I’m letting Him drive (I’m trying my darndest to do so, you know.) and He’s got that wheel going right through dangerous waters and coming out carefully since I’m just enjoying the scenery. Maybe He’s been able to manuver through some crap that I wouldn’t have been able to manuver through. It’s quite possible that He has used His impeccable driving skills to save me from unnecessary pot holes.
That would explain why I have more moments of uncomprehensible peace than terrifying worry, these days. Obliviousness. I believe He allows for a certain amount of that. And I trust Him. And, sometimes, I’m hoping that I trust Him; I flinch. And at other times I am more than hesitant; I still reach over to grab that wheel.
I refuse to drive. I like the scenery too much.
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