RIGHT NOW, my son is at the DMV in line waiting to take his learner’s permit written test. This is not possible. He was just born yesterday. I remember pulling my work truck onto the shoulder to deal with the reality of the words I had just heard: “I’m pregnant.” Or rather, “Positive,” because we had decided to wait until I returned home from work but I simply could not and begged her to take the test with me on the phone.
This was a pretty poor choice, as it turns out. I would have loved to hold her tightly while we cried on the floor of the bathroom like in the commercials. But the way it happened I remember like it’s seared into my mind and that’s cool to remember something so significant so clearly, so I guess it wasn’t that poor of a decision. And I did get to hold her and cry soon enough in celebration and joy and gratitude.
Anyway, that was last night and now he’s 16 and as big and strong as I am and is hopefully about to get enough questions right to pass his test.
It’s moments like this that allow us to focus on where we are and from where we’ve come. Sometimes we miss it, you know? We wake up and wonder what happened, how did we get this old and how in the world is he driving?!!!!???
There’s a familiar story in the Bible about Moses and a burning bush. Now, bushes burn all the time but what was interesting about this one was that it wasn’t being consumed, like every single other thing that burns. I wonder how many walked right on by, head down getting to the next meeting or thinking about yesterday or tomorrow, distracted by anything, what my hair looks like, if I’m too fat, what they thought of me, if my shirt was the right color, whatever. And the bush burns and the invitation goes unnoticed.
My dad died 16 years ago (the same year the prospective driver was born) very suddenly. I wished for 1 more day, 1 more conversation, 1 more chance to make everything right. Then the story about that bush was no longer was a story about thousands of years ago, it was a story about me and my dad and God trying to get my attention to here and now, instead of then, there, should have, and what if.
That was the greatest lesson my dad taught me, and if you like me even a little, that’s probably what you like most. I wrote earlier that the Angel was pregnant ‘last night,’ but that’s not true. It was almost 17 wonderful years of laughter, church services, tears, angry fights, wrestling on the floor, board games, movies, dentist appointments, basketball games, Impractical Jokers episodes, hugs (sooo many hugs), kisses, fevers, doctor appointments, and countless ice cream cones ago and I’m sure I’ve missed a few moments but for the most part, the point my dad unknowingly made stuck me like a knife in the hardest parts of my heart, changing me forever. Now those parts are super soft and squishy and keep me fully present. What I can tell you is that I’ve loved him with my whole heart and all of my being for every day of his life.
Which has now become a life that has PASSED A DRIVERS TEST!!!!!!