The Passenger Seat

I have expectations. I think things up in my mind of the way things should go. I think I am the only person in the world who does this. ( I know you are laughing)

But I do, I do it with everything. A meeting, a date, a family vacation, a birthday party. Sometimes my expectations are that I am going to be hurt by someone attending the same event, or a family member making a sly comment. Sometimes i expect that something is going to be perfect, flawless. HA.

Well I thought that this last weekend's roadtrip would be filled with meaningful conversations with my husband.

Mainly because we love road trips. We love long drive's together alone in the car. We enjoy our favorite snacks, good music and lovely scenery along the way. We sometimes stop at In' n Out for a burger, because we can.

This weekend we left for Fresno at prime time traffic hour in LA. I don't remember every word that was said, but somehow about an hour into our drive, we both ended up wearing our headphones at their highest volume. His eyes fixed on the road, and mine to whatever car was out the passenger window.

I pondered as i listened to my music what these people's lives were like? Were they happy in their marriage. Were those kids crying, or laughing? Where were they going? What was their story? Would it be easier in the passenger seat of the car beside me? Maybe their husband was nicer than mine? Maybe their husband is an ex- con and my car is just fine. Maybe their husband doesn't stop on road trips at In' n out.

I began to think, of my puny place in the world. The passenger seat.
 I began to think of my driver. My husband. The man I chose to marry. The man God brought into my life to "drive" our family. To be the leader of our family.

Then I thought about the true driver of the car. Our precious Savior, who has driven us to worlds I never thought I could endure, only to drive us to new cities, new jobs and new lives, recognizing that our old lives were not pleasing to Him.

The tears would stream down my face as I thought of words we had just exchanged. Hurtful words. Words that brought devastation. I hoped that my husband would not see. I didn't want him to think that I was weak, or that his words can affect me that much.

But then I remember His promises.
Psalm 56: 8
"You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." 

He calls me to Himself. He lets me be myself. He lets me cry. He lets me sink in His grace and His precious nail scarred hands. He draws me there. In my sin, in my anger, He draws me to Himself for comfort and forgiveness. 

And I am healed.
 For some reason though, I have not learned to let go, see it's Monday morning, and I can re-live every moment of our car ride. I'm still angry and bitter because Friday, turned into some hurtful things on Saturday, which ruined Sunday. 

I am really bad at forgiving.

I am the worlds best bitter person. (Ew.) 

I'm beginning to see this ugly pattern in me. He forgives and I clench my fists tight and don't want to be healed. I don't know how to be healed. I just know how to be hurt. 

Oh Lord, take this wounded sinner and make her a forgiving, loving, gentle person who though the world has hardened in the past few months, will not be forever hardened. 

Because I am forgiven. I am free. Take away the chains. Let me be free in your grace Lord. Let me swim in your grace and know freedom from bitterness, I pray.