Driving Lessons 2.0

Right now my greatest challenge is driving.  From pulling into a parking bay to navigating my way to a venue. It’s a miracle if I don’t bump a car, get to an appointment on time (given Jo’burg traffic) and still have enough petrol in my tank after each journey. No matter how short or simple, if I get to my destination in one piece, I just want to get down on my knees and shout  “Praise Jesus, Hallelujah”!

At the same time, driving is one of those rare therapeutic sessions I get to have.  So there’s a lot of singing, thinking out loud, questions (posed by myself, to myself in the third person), and “Aha” moments or “I should've moved in that gap two robots ago” realisations.

I’ve had the chance to experience South Africa’s goodness on a micro-scopic level.  You know, the part that no one talks about it because it’s so hard to see in the midst of life’s happenings.  For instance, I’ve found that giving someone space to move in ahead of you is a random act of kindness that can make you feel really good about making someone else’s life easier.  I’ve also become acquainted with a few security guards, who’ve kindly helped me get out of a basement parking-lot. (Seriously, there was this one security guard.  If he had a pen and paper, I swear he would’ve drawn a diagram to help me get out of my parking space).

I’ve seen people go the extra mile (not literally) to be kind when driving in traffic. I guess it’s because subconsciously we know all our lives are in danger so we’re all trying to be super nice in an effort to prevent whatever we don’t want to happen from happening.

Of course, there’s the occasional woman who hysterically hoots at you (happened twice, different women, separate occasions. I was probably wrong, not turning towards oncoming traffic was very silly of me.  What was I thinking?  Probably just trying to stay alive I guess. Or the other time when I wasn’t moving fast enough in a traffic jam.  Surely, I should just drive into the car in front of me so that you don’t have to wait in traffic, like everyone else). 

I have no hard feelings, and although at the time those women made me feel a cocktail of emotions (anger, frazzledness, confusion, humiliation) I’ve learnt to rise above their aggression and speak blessings over their lives, instead of cussing or calling them morons.

Last weekend I did my first trip home alone. Every time I’ve driven home (132km away), I’ve had a passenger.  I didn’t expect anything to go seriously wrong.  Sure, I was a bit nervous, but I tried to be as cautious as possible.  My trip would’ve been great if my GPS didn’t take me through some dodgy back route past farms.  

For 10km I kept telling myself, you just need to keep driving because there’s no way you’ll get out of here if you just stop. It started raining, and my GPS decided to die. I wanted to crap myself, but realised I couldn’t because I was driving and there were no toilets nearby and getting out of the car would put me in more danger.

I pulled over to the side of the road, just shaking.  And the only thing “Myself in the third person” could yell at me was: “You just have to do this. You can’t turn back.  You have to do this yourself.  You’re a journalist.”  Yes, in my moment of need, the only motivation my conscious could muster up was “You’re a journalist”.  And it’s true, many times when I find something difficult to do, I tell myself that there’s no way around it.  If I can’t do this tiny thing, there’s no way I can do my job.

It bothers me that the first thing that came to my mind wasn’t “You’re a strong Christian woman”.  Or, “God loves you, no weapon formed against you will prosper.”  Or “You can do this, you have Christ in you, the hope of glory”. 

In the last few weeks I thought I had been drawing from God.  Leaning on Him and trusting Him for life.  But once again, my actions reveal that I still want to do things by my own strength.  I still believe that I can save myself. 

Sure, in the moment “You’re a journalist” got me to man-up and start the car and keep driving.  But how long will that last?  What happens when “You’re a journalist” doesn’t work. What do I draw from?  Who do I lean on?  (Between us, myself in the third person is a complete idiot, I don’t think I can rely on her for substantial life advice). Eventually I saw a familiar landmark and just followed the road, arriving home safely.

Something else has been getting to me and it’s the ridiculousness of what I consider to be problems.  At the beginning of this post I said my biggest challenge was driving.  Not to rub my not-problems in anyone’s face, but those aren’t problems.  I have no problems, and I’ve been going through life like I have the world on my shoulders.

I met an 8 year old who’s going through an identity crisis.  He’s been adopted (that’s one) and he was born Muslim but has to reconcile his beliefs with his adoptive family who are Christians.  He’s 8 years old and he has to deal with a fundamental shift of his values. I’m 23 and paying for a parking ticket overwhelms me (I have no problems).

So after all of this- what’s the point of my story?

I’m still learning to accept God’s grace, freely given, undeserved favour. And no matter how insignificant, my not-problems still tell a story of God’s grace, as much as anyone else’s problems. Seriously, I wake up in the morning and my only concern is traffic. Not food, clothes, or my job. I have nothing to complain about.  Nothing to be angry about. If that isn’t grace, then you’ve just wasted three good minutes reading about a woman who speaks to herself and is in denial about her terrible driving.