My Dad, The Driver
Among the many talents my father have, one that I admire the most is his driving skill. He used to work as a field engineer for Texaco Philippines. This entailed a lot of driving. He would often go to remote parts of the country.
Driving in the Philippines can be hard to imagine for people used to multi-lane interstate highways. Even NASCAR drivers may have a hard time navigating through the streets of Manila.
When people ask me about the driving conditions in this city of 14 million people, I usually ask them to imagine Manhattan driving and then imagine it being fifty times crazier. Roads between cities can often be treacherous and a large number of these can be unpaved. One can be driving at 60 mph and suddenly encounter a huge pothole, or a heard of cows for that matter.
Yet despite all the dangers of driving in the Philippines, I had always felt safe when my dad was behind the wheel. He was skillful enough to insulate me from the dangers of the road. In fact, at a time when there were no Nintendo DS or in-car DVD players, my fondest memories were in the back seat of a beat-up Mitsubishi Lancer.
In addition his superior driving skills, my dad had an unbelievable sense of direction. I have no memory of ever getting lost when he was the one driving. On the other hand, I have been living in rural Tennessee for almost three years and I still have to use my GPS once in a while.
Melody and I are on the verge of making several big decisions. My obsessive-compulsive side wants to be in control of everything and get a handle of every little detail. It is our lives that we are talking about and it just makes sense that we determine our future, right?
When I do pray about these things, I am led to imagine that I am again in the passenger seat of our beat-up Lancer. But this time, it is not my earthly father who is driving but my heavenly one. I then sense that I need to let go and let him do the driving.
It is easier to imagine being on the passenger seat and letting the driver decide on the destination if it is just a matter of having Mexican or Italian for lunch. I usually do well with either — I can order a burrito or lasagna.
But letting someone else drive me to life’s bigger destinations? That’s a harder one.
I then remember that my heavenly father is infinitely superior to my own father as far as navigating through life. He not only knows every twist and turn, he made them. Knowing this, I should learn to relax and just enjoy the ride.
