For the past seven years I have been “traveling” somewhere. Many days, one would find me on Interstate 4 between Orlando (where I lived) and Lakeland, Florida (where my office was) a distance of 58.3 miles one-way, but who’s counting? Many friends and family often asked me about my “commute.” The answer I usually gave was “it was my spiritual journey!”
Most of the time, I found it was a good time to “listen.” I usually listened to “talk radio” getting caught up on the news of the day and the hundreds, yea even thousands of opinions that went along with it. Easy listening and Christian music radio was another standard. All of these, of course, gave regular traffic reports which aided me in decisions of the route to take.
When radio didn’t suffice, or I couldn’t find what I liked, I popped in a CD (yes, I had not commandeered the iPod shuffle!) Sometimes a book on CD was a great way to brag that I’d “read” a good book recently. Whatever the medium, I listened.
Some of what I “heard” went in one ear and out the other. Every once in a while, something goes in and camps out on a brain cell and I have one of those “a-ha moments.”
One morning I found myself maneuvering the “Nascar” style traffic heading west on I-4. You know the type I’m referring to: 65+ mph, lots of cars and trucks bunched together, and everyone “jockeying” for position. Right around Walt Disney World you lose one west-bound lane. I know it is there; I’ve handled it hundreds of times; I’m preparing for it. Then all of a sudden a Dodge Ram green pickup truck flashed up from the rear at a speed which made me appear to be sitting still. He swerved around me and glares at me like it was my fault that he did not have clearance for take-off!
Well, I did what many do—I gave him a “holy honk” of the car horn. Racing through my mind were thoughts of anger, disgust, ridicule and judgment. Just prior to this I had popped a CD into the player by a male trio of Southern Gospel music that I was introduced to some years earlier. I love their music, style and presentation. It is classy Southern Gospel. Usually one would pass me and observe me singing at the top of my lungs with them as their “fourth” singer to make it a “real quartet.”
Wouldn’t you know that God sent a message to me to “hear” in that particular moment? The group and I were singing “I’m happy with you Lord; I hope you’re happy with me.” Oh, boy! I got the message! In that moment, I did not portray one with whom the Lord of Heaven and Earth could be happy with. I had not given a “good witness” to that other driver. Rather than voice a prayer of thanksgiving for His protection upon me and the Dodge Ram driver, I had feelings of anger that the other driver felt entitled to the piece of asphalt that I was occupying.
Oh, Lord. Forgive me for not listening as intently as I should during my Daily Treks. Thank you for protecting idiot drivers like me!
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