While we were in Cape May and lounging at the beach, a giant wave body slammed my husband, took his glasses and stole his lunch money. I said this before and I'll say it again...the Atlantic ocean is a big, fat bully!
Not having his glasses is a big deal for my hubbie because he is blind out of his left eye and has poor vision out of his right. This meant one thing: I was going to have to drive us home.
People, I am a nervous driver. And I can get lost going to the supermarket! I don't like traffic either and let me tell ya, that's a wonderful trait to have when you are driving across the GWB from Jersey into New York City.
I'm thinking that the craziness of NYC traffic is second only to Mumbai. And people are just as likely to drive you into a guardrail, spit on your bleeding body and hurl insults about your mother in both cities.
I was crazy nervous about driving and it didn't help that my husband is a back seat driver. He leaned over me to check my speed, tried to direct me to an EZ pass lane (toll lane) of his choice and overall critiqued every moment of my driving like a passive aggressive DMV driving tester.
It was clear that he was out of his element, he is the driver in the
family and to have to sit in the passenger seat made him squirm but he didn't have a choice. He was at my mercy and had to surrender his control because he couldn't see two feet in front of him. When we finally reached home he breathed a sigh of relief and said, "wow, you did a pretty good job!" I tried to take the compliment but I couldn't ignore the fact that he was surprised that I had gotten us home without anyone ending up as roadkill. He didn't have faith in me.
When I'm riding in the car in the passenger seat I typically fall asleep. I trust my husband completely and feel safe when he's behind the wheel. I don't even pay attention to what direction he's going. I would never be able to get us home because I don't pay attention to road signs or land marks either. In fact, I prefer for someone else to drive. I don't like feeling the stress of not knowing where I'm going.
Yet, it occurred to me that when it comes to my life and God, I'm just like my husband. I scream out, "Jesus! Take the wheel!" and then I desperately try to pry it out of his hands or lean over him in my seat and check the speedometer or try to give him directions. It's hard for me to surrender complete control because I've spent my whole life trying to drive myself. It makes me uncomfortable to be in a situation where I have no control. I'm just like my husband not being able to drive. And when I finally get somewhere and I arrive in one piece I'm always surprised at God's competency. Oh me of little faith.
I guess I need to apply the same trust I have in my husband's driving to the way I surrender my life to God. To be able to lean back, adjust my seat and take a snooze while he takes me where I'm supposed to go. And when I arrive in one piece, I'll wake up, blink my eyes, stretch and be rested instead of seconds away from a panic attack which is mostly how I white knuckle my way through life right now.
I suppose it's a process. There are definitely some things I've surrendered but there are things I cling to and try to control. Kind of like how my husband kept pressing his feet into the floor board in a desperate attempt to hit the breaks. It didn't work, obviously. But it didn't stop him from trying.