A number of years ago and for the span of a decade, I commuted a half hour each way to and from the school where I taught.
Needless to say I saw all kinds of drivers: the speed demons and poke-alongs, the weavers and squeezers, the distracted and multi-taskers—each one an accident waiting to happen, each one confident that he or she was not.
One day a young man on a motorcycle whizzed by, darting between vehicles left and right in search of the fastest lane. This was not in near standstill traffic; it was on a stretch of Florida Turnpike where the speed limit is seventy.
Oh, Lord, I thought. Talk about an accident waiting to happen. That boy has no idea the danger he’s creating for himself and everyone else in his path.
A few minutes later I reached my exit and gasped aloud. Lying in the grass in the middle of the cloverleaf turn-off was that young motorcyclist, far separated from his twisted bike.
A few people were already hunched over him, perhaps from the nearby tollbooth area. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw his leg move.
Every now and then that scene comes to mind. I imagine that young man as he straddled his cycle that morning, anxious to be on his way for another exhilarating trip of engine revving, speed, and clever maneuvering.
No doubt a trip to the hospital never even crossed his mind.
The young often do live in a fantasy world of invincibility. And those of us with a bit more life-experience shake our heads at their carelessness.
But fast-lane living isn’t the singular domain of speeders and teenage boys on motorcycles.
Even a retired schoolteacher like me can forget: life is fragile.
Not that I drive recklessly or take foolish chances.
But I am very capable of rushing through a to-do list and missing an opportunity to provide joy in someone else’s life. I can breeze right past the blessings-of-the-moment because I’m focused on something down the road.
I can even forget the values I hold dear, including attentiveness to God and loving compassion for others.
It is downright foolish of me to live in a fantasy of invincibility, as if there will always be plenty of tomorrows for attentiveness and compassion, while cruising along in the fast lane of frenzied activity.
Instead, I’d rather cup my hands around each day and:
- Find the wonder in the common. “The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribable, magnificent world in itself” (Henry Miller).
- Take note of the everyday miracles. “Looking is the beginning of seeing” (Sister Corita Kent).
- Hug often. “Hugs are one of the reasons God gave us arms. So stretch out your arms to someone today…It will warm the heart of the giver and give light to the soul of the recipient” (Unknown).
- Laugh easily. “Laughter is the closest thing to the grace of God” (Karl Barth).
- Value every person. “The way we treat others is more about who we are, not who they are” (Unknown, emphasis added).
- Forgive quickly. “Forgiveness isn’t about letting the other person off the hook. It’s about keeping the hooks of bitterness from getting into you” (Gabrielle Bernstein).
- Avoid negativity. “Beautiful things happen when you distance yourself from negativity” (Unknown).
- Choose joy. “True contentment is the power of getting out of any situation all that there is in it” (G. K. Chesterton).
* * * * * * * * * *
Lord God, I have so much to be thankful for, including this cloudy, cozy day and the welcome chill in the air. I thank you for this moment, complete with winking candle, hazelnut coffee, and soft music to keep me company as I write.
Thank you also for the designated purpose you ordain for each person. Because I am still alive, you still have plans to fulfill through me, especially to bless others. And for that I am grateful as well.
Keep me mindful, I pray, that fast lane living is not only foolish, it is dangerous to my soul.
(1 Thessalonians 5:18; Psalm 37:23; Proverbs 19:21; Ephesians 2:10)
What will you cup your hands around today? Tell us about it in the comment section below!
(Art & photo credits: www.flickr.com; http://www.commons.wikimedia.org (3); http://www.flickr.com; Nancy Ruegg.)
From the Inside Out 