My sweet Grandma Katherine keeps journals. She has for years, and she recently told me she calls all of her musings “Nuts and Nuggets.” I adore this humorous lens she has taken on her own writings! I know a lot of my own ramblings are of the nutty variety, but every now and then, a golden nugget surfaces. The following little nugget was found in one of my tiny spiral notebooks from age 16. It was written during a family road trip from Tennessee to Texas in January of 2004. I thought it would be appropriate for Throwback Thursday, as I am currently on the road again, enjoying a splendidly unconventional honeymoon (Road Trip Moon :). It seems that, once again, there are some lessons I could learn from my younger self.
“Lindsey,” I whisper for the umpteenth time, “kick mom.”
We’re smushed in the back seat of the Camry on our way to Dallas, Texas. Mom and Dad have been taking turns driving for 11 hours straight through the night.
I keep watching Mom because she has to slap herself and bounce in her seat to stay alert!!! It’s funny, but a little nerve-racking too. After yet another sign that she will conk out any second, I whisper, “Mom, I can drive.”
“Just rest,” she replies. Just rest? I can’t! I’m afraid she’s gonna run off the road… I mean, is risk really necessary?
That’s when I hear the echo of Your words to me, Lord. “Come to Me all you weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Why are You driving my life in such a risky way? Why am I going through a place like wide-open, unfamiliar, lonely Arkansas? I am enjoying seeing the snow-covered pastures and the hawks that sit poised on the trees and fences, scanning the ground for their next meal. And true, if I was driving, I wouldn’t see as much of these quaint sights. But the reality is that You’re driving my life in directions unexpected. I would much rather be behind the wheel, driving around my familiar Knoxville. I might not see anything new, but at least I know where I am going and that it’s safe.
We pass another hawk, this one facing the road in his regal perch. I can see his cuddly-looking, powerful underside puffed out between his wings. He reminds me that the risk is necessary.
You are showing me the path of life; it is my choice to follow You or not. All I know is, there are so many things You want me to see – things that make me beautiful and fill me with joy – things I can’t see unless You are driving and I am resting.
And so yes, Lord, no matter how lonely and unfamiliar and terrifying this road trip may get, I will give You the wheel… and I – I will rest in the back seat as I take in all the beauty around me. Look – here comes the Texas border.