WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Rush and Rush Until Life's No Fun

     It's been nearly twenty years ago but I still remember that I was in a hurry to get to work that morning. I had bade my wife and children farewell and set off to conquer my college baseball coach list of To Do's for that day. Impatiently I lamented my fate of being stuck behind inconsiderate slow drivers whose To Do lists were obviously not as urgent as mine. The thought crossed my mind that I should write a column about how folks should pull off the road and let others through if and when they were holding up progress. Just as I was editing these thoughts in my mind, I came to . . .  The Intersection. An intersection destined to make a permanent impression on me.
     Back to that in a moment, but first, a few words about the local garbage refuse facility near my home. You put your garbage in the back of your truck or trunk of your car and you drive to the dump and get in line while others dump their trash ahead of you. You wait your turn, exchange a quick remark about the weather with the garbage dump guy and you move on.
     Recently I found myself four cars deep in line as an older gentleman ahead of me was placing his garbage bags into the big green thing where folks place their trash. It seemed to me that he had no sense of urgency at all, and when his task was done, he even took time to speak with and exchange pleasantries with the garbage dump guy pushing the button that controls the big green thing. At an earlier point in my life, my temperature would have begun to rise as I waited impatiently, especially because on this particular day I had plenty to do and was already running late on my way to do it. But that temperature stayed well below the boiling point because of my everlasting memory of . . . The Intersection.
     After completing his business, the gentleman at the dump that day continued on his merry way as the rest of us inched forward in anticipation of our throw the trash in the big green thing moment. We progressed to the point where a sweet old lady ahead of me slowly removed herself from her vehicle and meticulously opened her trunk and reached for the first of several garbage-filled white trash bags. Most everybody at the dump, including me 99% of the time, stays in their car and observes impatiently as the person ahead of them tosses their waste into the big green thing. But fortunately for me, the everlasting images of The Intersection made their way to the forefront of my mind's eye at that moment. I put my truck in park, got my rear end out of the front seat, walked over to the sweet old lady and helped her get all her trash into the big green thing, which she thanked me profusely for. Her car had a "God is Good" bumper sticker which I particularly liked. My day was brightened a little and it's possible hers was as well.
     Psalm 56:10 reminds us to "Be still and know that I am God." I have to reflect on this verse a lot because I have trouble being still. There's part of me that feels like I always have to be doing something in order to preserve my self worth and fulfill my purpose on a given day. Yet sometimes I think I miss out by being in such a hurry. Yes, we need to have an urgency concerning the Kingdom of God, but we don't have to be so full speed ahead in a rush that we miss out on what God may be trying to show us each and every day.
     So what was the dramatic event that occurred at The Intersection nearly twenty years ago that changed my perspective and left a lasting impression on me? Fear not, there was no accident and no one was physically harmed that morning. But I still view the scene that unfolded before my eyes that day at The Intersection as tragic in at least a couple ways. And to be factual, it wasn't even an intersection in the traditional sense. It was merely a spot where two radically different worlds met at the same point in time.
     On that particular morning, as I was speeding toward my destination, an elderly woman in a dress carrying a bag of groceries suddenly caught my eye as she crossed the road ahead of me directly in my path. I suppose she had originally miscalculated, fully believing she would have plenty of time to reach the other side before my arrival. She became aware of her miscalculation about the time she arrived in the middle of my lane in the road. Of course I slowed and eventually stopped. What happened next is still difficult for me to think about, even more difficult for me to write about, and impossible for me to explain out loud without some eye misting involved. This elderly lady who deserved to have a Boy Scout carry her groceries across the street . . . began to run. Her body and her grocery bag both jiggled awkwardly as she traversed the remaining distance to the safety of the opposite sidewalk.
     My heart nearly skipped a beat as I watched the scene unfold only a few feet before me. My windows were up so she didn't hear me scream "Noooooo! Don't run! Pleeeeeease! I'm not mad. It's okay. You don't have to run!" It was fairly obvious that she didn't feel she was in danger because I was completely stopped, yet something inside her made her feel the need to run. And it was apparent to me that her earthly body was no longer suited for the requirements of rapid movements.
     She completed her mission and once on the sidewalk, resumed her slow pace. She never looked up during the crossing of The Intersection, which was really just a spot in the road, nowhere near a stop light or a stop sign. As hard as I tried, I couldn't convince my right foot to press the accelerator. At that moment I experienced perhaps the deepest sense of shame I have ever felt in my entire life. Why did she feel she had to run? Why was I such a threat to her? What kind of monster had I become?
     Perhaps she had lived through previous times when folks weren't in such a hurry and people weren't as obsessed about the hands on a clock. Maybe she thought she was clogging the path of the important man driving his truck who was not from her generation and was possibly about to lay down on the horn to get her out of the way because he had "important" stuff to do.
     My mind was now "cluttered" with these thoughts as I realized that a tear had slowly trickled down my cheek and dropped onto my neatly pressed khaki dress pants. Eventually I was able to gather myself and continue on my journey. I snuck a glance in the rear view mirror to get one last look at the sweet old lady whom God had used to smack me in the face with a dose of reality. As the scene behind me gradually faded into the distance, my mind eventually returned to my To Do List. But I was profoundly altered that day at The Intersection. And in order to glean the lessons learned from it, I have to remind myself of that unpleasant scene often, because I'm still an impatient person most of the time.
     So let's all try to stop hollering at people who drive slow. Let's stop sighing and groaning impatiently when someone in line at the store or the garbage dump or anywhere else is taking longer than we would like. Let's order our cars to yield to pedestrians without losing our cool and staring them down. Let's stop being so busy trying to make it in life that we forget to live life. Let's be still . . . and know that He is God.