Of the many things I have begun to learn this summer, one of my lessons has been on the anxiety of driving. I spend a lot of time in the car as I go from county to county; I'm trying to not also spend the majority of that time feeling aggravated.
Driving has caused me anxiety from a young age. I used to have nightmares about sitting in the front seat of our family minivan in the neighbor's steep driveway at my grandparents' house, which rolls straight into the lake. In the dream, I would struggle with the steering wheel, not knowing what to do, as the car plummeted toward the pond.
Or, [in real life] on the way to our annual family vacations at the beach, I would always want to ride in the car with my cousin Lois, and I would always get exceptionally worried if I thought Lois was lost. "Are we lost? Are we lost yet? Do you know where you're going?"
This dream symbolism seems so obvious - driving = control, and I obviously longed for security (my grandparents' home) but felt out of control (ie the car out of control) at the times when I was having those dreams. Once I learned how to drive, my anxiety eased up and at least the nightmares went away.
But Driving isn't just about driving - it's so much more on a metaphorical level. Like David Wilcox says on his album Live Songs and Stories,
I'm tryin' to find my way to some club, and somebody will have told me, "oh, you just drive straight on such-and-such, and you see the..." y'know, something ridiculous: "you see the HUGE BLUE POODLE, and then you CAN'T MISS IT... and then you turn right and..."
...and I'm thinkin' to myself: "now, I've been driving now, and driving and driving... and I have only one landmark to go by. What if I... missed it?" And you know they said you can't miss it (which is the kiss of death) so what if I'm just driving into oblivion, and I'll just drive for the rest of my life, you know?
And the reason why it bugs me... Y'know, it's no big deal -- I can make it to the club, I can skip the sound check. I'll find it, eventually.
It's only bad directions.
It bugs me on a metaphorical level, because it's just too much like life.
Y'know, like as a kid when you're asking people "well how do you know... when it's true love?"
What do they always say?
"Oh, you'll know, you'll know."
Well, y'know, that's like saying "you can't miss it." It's the KISS OF DEATH, y'know...
...you just imagine you're 96 years old: "No, I'm holding out for the big blue poodle... They said it was on the road here, 'I can't miss it...'"
Bad directions are just one metaphorical conundrum... getting lost is a whole other issue. Today, I knew where I was, where I needed to be, how to get there - heck, I'd even driven that specific route several times, because I was going from my childhood home to my first county from my first summer on staff! The problem was not that I had bad directions; the problem was that I had everything mapped out, had all the signs before me, and I still messed it up.
It's only getting turned around.
No big deal - I'll just turn around, be a little later than I expected, and things will be fine. I'll still get to the center before dark, I'm still in familiar territory, and it's not like anyone is really depending on me to be anywhere at a specific time, just as long as I get to the center before 11 pm curfew.
But on a metaphorical level!!! I had it all mapped out before me, I knew which signs to look for, and I missed the signs. I was distracted by the audiobook I was listening to (Three Cups of Tea, which is fantastic!!!), the incredible beauty of the easternmost mountains in Virginia in the Russell and Tazewell County area, and I was overconfident from the excitement of returning to my familiar territory. Even with the best of preparation and best of intent, I still messed it up because I was operating with the assumption that my fading memories of those road patterns exempted me from actual guidance. With a little more direction everything turned out just fine - don't get me wrong - but in the moment it sure was aggravating.
Here's another problem, too. I believe firmly in the grace of second chances. I suppose you could call it a cowardly confidence, but I believe that if God has ordained that some specific event or lesson must happen in life, if I miss the opportunity the first time then it will probably come by again at some later point. The lesson still needs to be learned, the event still needs to happen... I just missed it the first time. No biggie! In my theology of second chances, this also allows me to explore new places and new paths once I realized that I missed something else. It's also a free excuse to just step back and watch from the sidelines the first go round, even though I may really feel like I ought to be doing or saying something about this particular situation.
My second chance theology is a lot more glamorous than a manifest metaphor. I mean, once I looked at the map and realized I was in Lebanon, VA, instead of Grundy, VA, I could have taken some roads less travelled, climbed every mountain, and found a whole new world. I would have gotten to the destination, but probably at a greater cost, since the longer I was on the road the less attention and focus I had. You would think that I would have rejoiced at this opportunity for growth and adventure, but instead I was just frustrated at myself for tacking on an extra 46 miles and having to turn around.
By the time I finally got to my evening's destination, I realized that I could relieve my anxiety if I could separate real anxiety (road hazards) from metaphorical ones (need/desire to be in control), and simply be thankful for the safety that has accompanied me on every journey.
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