A Lesson in Trust

The autumn day was gorgeous. Leaves were just beginning to turn to their fall shades of red and gold and orange. A nip was in the air, and I was thrilled to be able to wear my favorite cardigan. Our family van was wending its’ way from our suburb, through the countryside, to the south side of our large metropolitan area as we eagerly anticipated a day of shopping, dining, and togetherness.

We decided to take the road less traveled, and we soon found ourselves in unfamiliar territory. I looked both ways before turning. I listened carefully to the directions of the GPS. I checked the blind spot before I changed lanes. I came to a full stop at every stop sign and let the other driver proceed first. My high school driver ed teacher would have been proud.

But I wasn’t driving.

That’s right. I sat in the passenger seat.

“Steve, I think you’re supposed to turn here.”

“Steve, I think that other guy was here first.”

“Steve, there’s a stop sign coming.”

And my neck was beginning to hurt from all the checking and re-checking and checking again.

Then, right there with a corn field on the right and a soybean field on the left and the sun in my eyes, I couldn’t enjoy my favorite cardigan or the fall color anymore. I knew I had become what I had determined I never would be.

I was a side-seat driver. You know, let’s just call it what it is. I was being a controller, at least in the car.

I forced myself to release my grip on the armrest. That provided some immediate relief.

I also forced myself not to look, not to check, not to spout off instructions. I forced myself to let the man drive.

Soon I felt myself beginning to relax and enjoying the scenery and the chatter of the children again.

And that was that. I’m all better, and I don’t control anymore.

You do believe that, right?

Me neither.

When we’re merging onto the interstate, I’m still sure that we’ll hit another vehicle and all die in a fiery crash if I don’t check the other lanes for my husband. When we come to a four-way stop, I just know that we’ll be hit in the side by that SUV if I don’t look both ways and all the children will be crippled for life. And don't get me started on pulling out of a parking spot.

That’s stupid. My husband is an excellent driver, and I have no reason not to trust his driving ability.

Now, dare I say it?

My God is an excellent driver, and I have no reason not to trust his driving ability.

Ouch.

So, I’m still forcing myself to relax. To gaze at the scenery or read a book. To gaze into the eyes of the precious blessings He has given me and enjoy this moment. To read His Book, not just at devotional time but anytime I feel like side-seat driving.

I’m forcing myself not to look.

It is a conscious effort, but worth it for both the marriage and the faith.

One more lesson in trust. One more lesson in learning to let go.

How about you? Do you double-check when your spouse is driving? What lessons in trust have you learned?

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