Back Behind the Wheel
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, fingers fitting right back into the comfortable grooves.
Although it was the fourth time I’d experienced a “no driving allowed” season, finally getting behind the wheel once again never grew old. A rush of freedom and empowerment swept over me. The options of paved paths to follow felt too numerous to count.
I started the car and the engine hummed. I slowly pulled out and headed down the road on my four-mile journey toward the video store for the important task of returning a rental. My trip was short. The scar running the length of my abdomen, still covered by steri strips, couldn’t take more than a few minutes in the driver’s seat.
Although the initial independence felt great, I couldn’t stop the thoughts creeping in about the previous two weeks. Emotions came and went as the cars driving next to me. I felt stunned that surgery had become a way of life. Sad at the loss of future life. Thankful for the removal of cancer threats. Grateful the surgery went so well. Expectant to return to “normal” soon. Lured by feelings of victimization. Tempted to shut down and lose the faith.
I arrived at my destination, dropped off the movie and headed back to the car. It was amazing how wiped out I was just by the small trek to the store. Or maybe it wasn’t the trek at all but the reflections behind the wheel. God always had a way of getting my attention and making me think while driving.
With just a few yards to go, I stopped at the last stoplight before home only to see a woman and a teenage boy standing at the corner to my right. The boy was tightly holding a walking stick which he tapped all around the corner while the woman stood behind him and talked firmly. He was blind and she was helping him navigate his way through downtown. And then it hit me.
I worship a God who once made a boy just like that see. However, the boy to my right would probably never experience that same miracle of sight told in the Bible. Not to mention the freedom and independence I had just regained of driving a car. However, he wasn’t letting the disappointment of a “miracle life” stop him. He had chosen to learn to walk around the city despite his circumstances, despite the fact he may never “see.”
As the light turned green I drove away and couldn’t get the image of the blind boy and his walking stick out of my mind. I realized I too needed to press on despite my less-than-ideal circumstances and flood of emotions. Sure, life had thrown me curve balls. Sure, things were hard. However, to experience the life God intended for me, I needed to follow the boy’s example and pick up my head, hold firm to my guide and trust that the small voice behind me will carry me through.