The Ones That Love You

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.

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.

2 Comments

  1. Sarah
    Sep 17, 2016

    I’m to the point where I talk out loud to people on the road, but I frequently have kids in the car, so I don’t yell or curse… I tend to say things like “Just STOP. Stop it. Get off my butt/the center lane is not for driving in/could you turn ANY SLOWER!” And the like. I called someone an idiot today in the middle of something I was saying to the kids, and my girl child thought I was talking to her.

    • pegster
      Sep 17, 2016

      I rarely do my cursing out loud… Although I do more than I could with passengers. I very rarely yell. But inside my head it’s kind of a free for all. Unfortunately. A few weeks ago I was outrageously angry with women pushing strollers. There are so many on Queen Anne. Why are there so many?! It’s hard to find a place to park on some stressfully steep incline and then these fit, rich ladies are everywhere walking with their rich, fit little babies.

      Haha. Or, whatever, it’s cool.

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