Taking my own advice (Be still, part 2)
This spring, I bought a convertible. It wasn’t because I was rolling in the dough from the release of my new book… or, really, from anything. No dough around here. Mid-life crisis, some might suggest. Maybe so. But I see it as a response to the fact that most days, it is only Bobby and me in the car. Tim has a practical vehicle which holds our whole family. Both of my girls, who are in college, have four-door sedans. Tim works long hours, but when he’s home, we have his car. And when the girls are home, we have theirs. And why not? Why not enjoy all the time I spend running between point A and point B? OK, I won’t continue to justify it any longer, except to say that 1) I dearly love it, and 2) it cost less than the Volkswagen sedan I was considering instead.
Anyway… Saturday I drove two hours to Decatur, IL, to attend an art show of my dad’s. I got in the car, and it was dark and rainy so I couldn’t put the top down. But that’s OK. I plugged in my phone, set it to Pandora’s Third Day channel, and started driving.
And I took a deep breath. And another. I noticed the shapes of the trees and the geometry of the rows of crops. I pondered deep questions, sang really loud (and rather off-key), scribbled notes about future blog posts and (possibly) my next book, and prayed.
And then I thought (in a very profound and enlightened manner), Duh! All through my book, I say to keep your eyes open. To watch. To consider the unexpected.
But did I? Not so much. All this time I’ve been feeling like I haven’t had any quiet time this summer, but I was wrong.
No wonder I jump at every chance to run to the store. Or drive an hour to Indy. Or two hours to an art show. This might explain why I’ve never bothered to sync my phone through Bluetooth—I just don’t answer when I’m driving. Because I desperately need that alone time with God. It revives and rejuvenates, restores and replenishes. Am I sitting in my living room, eyes closed, communing with God before the rest of the world awakens? Not so much. But am I still communing with God? Absolutely.
It just looks different than I was expecting.
So thankful for this revelation. Does it let me off the hook? Not at all. I still need to always look for those moments. I still need that time with God. I need to try to be more mindful about it—not because it’s a requirement or because God is mad at me, but just because it is what I need. More of Him lets me find more of me. I am in Him and He is in me. How wondrous, how amazing, is that knowledge?
I sit and revel in the awe of it. Even if it’s from the driver’s seat of my car.
The book Walk Through Fire, written by Carly Bowers (the woman who guest posted here last week), is now available on Amazon. Click here to order and read this inspiring story.