I used to feel superior to road ragers. I was like, hey man, calm down, you’re not stuck in traffic, you are traffic. You know, pretty zen about taking as long as it takes, and navigating the insane maze of the freeway.
This was before I became a regular commuter. Now that I drive to and from Seattle four times a week, I am prone to driving angry even when I’m out in the country (I live out in the country). A few weeks ago I was driving down Highway 20 to meet a friend for a mountain loop hike. In between nowheres, I found myself stuck behind three RVs going about 10 miles under the speed limit. I did not remain calm. I wasn’t traffic, they were, and I just wanted to have a day off from slugging along in my car behind people.
When I was younger (I mean, until a few years ago) I thought that as I got older, I would become calmer and wiser, I would work through my issues and be a really kind old lady some day. The older I get, the more I dig inside to clean things out, the more I find that deep down I’m basically a selfish asshole…
Several years ago I wrote a bunch about God’s love, and how I was beginning to learn the reality of it, and begin to believe it was true. Although since then I have left earth’s orbit and gone spinning in cold darkness, losing most of my religion, this big truth about God’s love hasn’t budged at all. So that’s pretty great and surprising. Something similarly surprising is that even while I’m discovering the depths of my own gross heart, I’m beginning to really believe that the people who love me- actually love me. For real.
Maybe it’s because it’s been harder to hide my ugly parts, or I never really hid from my friends, but I didn’t know how well they could see me… either way, I see them seeing me in all of my horrible layers and still loving me, and it’s mind blowing.
I may, or may not make improvements on my character. Jesus talked about knowing a tree by its fruit, but I don’t think we can really see our own fruit. I also don’t think he was telling us to judge other people for their fruit. The only thing that I can really handle in all of that is the idea that it’s God who does the pruning and watering and stuff. If traffic is just another thing God uses to expose rotting leaves, I accept this. At least until I’m surrounded by hundreds of other people in their metal boxes, inching along that cement assembly line to hell.
Haha. Whoa. Anyway, you know. Love and stuff.