Baby Driver

Our oldest son got his driver’s permit the other day, and just like you I’m wondering why they let six-year-old boys behind the wheel.

Wait, what? My son isn’t six? You mean he’s actually old enough to be doing this? That’s just not possible, because that would mean that I’m old enough to have a fifteen-year-old, which means I’m probably no longer 23.

How did that happen?

Life is funny that way. One minute you’re listening to the parents of teenagers marvel that their babies are old enough to drive and suddenly, you’re one of the marvel-ers. It’s like somebody put your life on turbo-speed and you go from trying to figure out how you’ll finagle grocery shopping with three toddler boys to cheering as those boys intercept a basketball and score a three-pointer, just like that.

The lesson, of course, is to learn to enjoy the moment. Life is filled with millions of them, sweet simple series’ of seconds that encompass our days, weeks, months. And so often we miss out on the wonder and beauty of just living life because we’re thinking about the future.

And then, bam. The future is here.

Grace is really the only answer to that pressing question: how? How do we enjoy the beauty of this moment, right here, without getting bogged down by worry or fear? Or even bogged down by responsibility? Because a good parent is one who is thinking about tomorrow, about caring for her children, about making sure that the choices we make today will help our children’s future.

It’s that great mystery of working like it depends on us, but praying like it depends on God.

When I start spending too much time thinking about things, that’s when I get in trouble. And yet, I have to think. I can’t blindly bumble through life with no plan. My husband and I need to talk about our goals and hopes and dreams for this family, or we might miss out on what we need to do right now.

But too much of that will overwhelm us. And it will give us a false sense of security — that if we plan everything just so, if we remember to dot and cross and underline as we should, that we are somehow guaranteeing things will go the way we plan.

The danger is that we start to look so hard at what is ahead, that we miss the right now.

The other day on the way to Mass, my son, with his newly-minted permit, was driving us on the early-morning roads. It was foggy, and we both noted, about the same time, that you could see perfectly clear — as long as you didn’t try to see too far ahead. The two of us could only stay focused on the road directly in front of us; looking way down the highway was futile and scary — we couldn’t see a thing.

As a driver, my son learned an important lesson that day — stay focused, look at what’s in your view. Don’t waste your energy trying to see a mile down the road. Be aware of where you are right now.

As his mother, I was reminded of the same. My job is to be present. My vocation is to care for what God has put here in front on me, right now in this season. And my goodness these seasons go fast. They are rapid and intense and taxing and overwhelmingly fun.

But only if I’m remembering to enjoy them.

I have to stay focused on what is within my vision, to really see what’s right there in front of me. Looking far off down the road doesn’t do me any good. It only robs me of my peace and joy, of the grace that God so generously wants to give.

This originally appeared in The Southern Cross.