Jesus Take The Wheel

To me, it's a garage sale treasure that caught my eye as I whizzed past one wet morning after a night-long rain.

But I'm not the only one who knows the red foot-propelled car is more than a hunk of faded plastic. To my children, it is the corvette of all the vehicles parked on the back carport.

And now that the twins have learned to drive backwards in the car, title ownership is almost as contentious as the Gaza strip. One child pulls open the door and drives off before another child has time to fully exit the same car door.

The real problem comes when both twins want the car at the same time (which is often). Emerson will be happily backing across the concrete when Amelia suddenly toddles over, throws open the car door, and pushes her way inside, trying to make room for two in a one-seater.

Emerson screams. Amelia screams back. Eventually, somebody will give up, exit the car. And there'll be peace for awhile until someone hits rewind and plays the scene again.

As I watch them , I see myself. I can recall too many situations where I was that little girl grabbing for the wheel so I could steer my life where I thought it needed to go.

Sometimes God screamed back at my arrogance. Other times, he simply exited the car, letting me drive off the cliff, and then waited for me to return in repentance and submission.

My prayer is that God will give my hands a good swat each time I reach for that wheel again.