Driving

"Sometimes, I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear
Take the wheel and steer

Whatever tomorrow brings
I'll be there with open arms and open eyes
Whatever tomorrow brings
I'll be there, I'll be there"
- Drive, by Incubus

I was nervous about driving. I’m back in Texas – visiting - after two years of working in Ecuador. I flew back once during that time for a wedding, so in all, it was a year and eight months since I saw my beloved family, my beloved Texas, and since I drove a car or saw a real sunset. I renewed my driver’s license and picked up the car some friends are generously loaning me. My first trip was careful, cautious. I’ve walked and relied on buses, taxis, and friends for the whole time I’ve been in Ecuador. But soon, I was reminded of this fact: I love driving. 

I think it’s the freedom and control that I love. The act of deciding and going and having my own space to sing and think and be. I drove, yet I also thought of my bad driving experiences, like rear-ending someone and being rear-ended. I thought about the cold, dark, early morning when I went around a corner and hit a patch of ice. My car spun, nothing but dark shapes moving past the windshield, before I hit a tree and fence. I sat in shock, headlights fixed on the tree and part of the road. I got out, saying, “No, no,” before seeing the smashed bumper. Alone in the middle of a dark country road, I turned and ran. I ran maybe three dozen yards before turning and running back towards those forlorn headlights. I bent in half and cried. Then I called my Mom and drove the poor car home. 

I thought about that experience because I knew that as much as I might feel in control behind the wheel, things can change in a single moment. I thought about this while driving in one of my favorite places: a long road which passes through a stretch of open country which will one future day likely be transformed into suburbs and shopping centers, yet for now holds spreading pastures and lone farmhouses. I looked at the fields and woods and gentle hills rolling out before me on every side, and at the huge sky which was turning orange with the setting sun, and felt a swell of love for the place I’m from. I always want to love the place I’m in and be able to see the beauty in everything possible. This returning makes my Texas more dear, more appreciated and treasured, just as the time away from Ecuador will make it a little dearer when I return. In all truth, I have two homes right now: the place I’ve been called to work in and in which I’ve established a home and life, and the place which shaped and grew me and which I know I can always return to. Of course more than just a place, home is family and friends in Texas and calling and friends in Ecuador. 

I drove, rolling down the window so I could breathe the fresh country air. I drove, in control for the moment, but knowing that could change in a moment. Maybe control is nothing more than an illusion. Maybe that’s disquieting, or maybe it’s comforting. I will choose comforting. I choose to let God be in control, since He is whether I like it or not, and since listening to His calling is much better than trying to drown it out with my own earthly desires, like a child throwing a fit. Unfurl the road ahead. Light the way. With help, and the occasional crash and run and starting again, I’ll do my best to follow.