Hurry up and wait

I was praying something like this: “Lord, I’m afraid I’m going to be late, and you know, Lord, it’s embarrassing for the preacher to be late for a wedding rehearsal, especially when the preacher’s son is the best man, and he’s waiting on his dad to get there, so Lord, have mercy, and as I drive faster than is legally permissible, would you kindly remove these pesky, slow drivers from my path, and please, please, PLEASE have mercy and don’t let me get stopped by the law, for you know, Lord, I do not have the time or money for a speeding ticket.”

It’s a lame prayer, I admit, certainly not one I’m particularly proud of or likely to submit to “An Anthology of the World’s Most Meaningful Prayers.”

But I was desperate.

Having been gone five days in Oklahoma, where I had presided at the funeral for my father-in-law, I was physically and emotionally drained by the time I arrived back home late the night before I was to be in northern Kentucky the next day for a wedding rehearsal.

Somehow, the day of the rehearsal had gotten away from me. My “to-do” list was shot to pieces before noon. I had too little time for too many chores, and so I had a late start getting on the road.  About a third of the way to the venue for the wedding, with Friday afternoon traffic clogging the two lane, often farm to market roads I was traveling, I realized I was in trouble.

That was when I asked the good Lord to remove all obstacles and just get me to the church, get me to the church on time.

Some days slip away from us.  The unexpected happens, you try to stay on course, but then another curve surprises you, distracting you even more. You do things like forget where you placed your car keys, or wallet, or cell phone. Then you look at the clock, and oh my goodness, you’re an hour behind.

That feeling of being overwhelmed causes your stress level to mount. Your heart rate increases, your breathing quickens, and your muscles tighten.  If allowed to continue for prolonged periods of time, stress can have devastating effects on your health, even if you pray that God will allow you to be an exception to the laws of physiology or the highway.

I was weaving in and out of traffic like Mario Andretti.

Then everything changed, in an instant.

It occurred somewhere in Henry County, Kentucky.

I passed one car, thought I had a stretch of open road to accelerate even more when I careened around a curve and saw a long, flat bed truck hauling hay, one more irksome obstacle on my racetrack to the finish line. I groaned and peered around the truck, looking for a break in the traffic.  

Just before putting on my left turn signal to pass the slow moving albatross in front of me, I saw her.

She was a Hispanic lady, probably in her mid 20s, sitting on top of the hay in the bed of the truck, up close to the cab, her arms crossed, resting on her chest, a couple of friends or co-workers to her side. She was facing me, staring right at me. She cocked her head to the side, like she was curious about something, and then she threw a carefree, siesta smile right in my direction, as if she were saying, “Why are you so intense, sir? Why the grimace on your face? Why that furrowed brow? You look so funny, caught up in whatever it is that’s causing you to rush like a maniac.”

Before I could process it, I had zoomed around the truck.

And then I realized what I had just seen.

Suddenly, I started laughing at my prayer, my dilemma, my crazy driving, my inflated perception of my role in a wedding rehearsal.

Then I stepped off the accelerator, rolled down my car window, breathed in the country fresh air, and shouted, “Take in this moment.”

And it was a beautiful moment.

I noticed the dark, rich soil where tender, young tobacco plants waved at me from the rolling hills that stretched into the clear blue sky above.  And every little town I passed through seemed to invite me to stop and stay awhile, or at least promise to come back and snooze on one of its benches along the town square and let the birds serenade me with their afternoon love songs.

I wanted to turn around, drive back to the flat bed truck and thank the smiling lady.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I took my time, drinking in all that the road offered me, arriving at the rehearsal with plenty of time to spare.

Humorist Will Rogers once observed, “Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life to save.”

“You’re good, Dad, no one around here is in much of a hurry,” Dave said as he hugged me.

“That’s good, Dave, because neither am I,” I responded.

“Not anymore.”