Driver's Ed

It would seem that the days of driving kids around are over.  Now I am the one being chauffeured, which might be more pleasant if I could recline in the back seat and pretend the driver is a real chauffeur.   However the Highway Traffic Act demands that I sit in the front passenger seat while my novice driver continues to learn the rules of the road and how to operate a moving vehicle safely.

Of my four sons, the last two are still learners, although my youngest is practically counting the days until he can take his road test.  While he drives me around, he chatters on about how “when I have my license ...”, and finishes the phrase with statements like “... I won’t just go the speed limit” or “...I’d like to have a racing motorcycle”.  Yeah, not really the things a mother wants to hear.

Each one of my boys is so different, and I find it interesting that their driving style in some ways reflects their personality.   We joked around one day that my oldest, who is quite similar to me in many ways, also drives like me, while Son #2 drives like his father.    Son #3 is more hesitant and passive, which is probably why he still has his learner’s permit two years later, and the youngest, in typical scrappy fight-for-everything-because-I’m-the-little-brother fashion, will get behind the wheel whenever he can, even if it means going grocery shopping or running errands with me.

Sitting in the passenger seat certainly challenges my communication skills.  It’s not just the words used, but also the tone and volume.   Affirmation is key.

Sitting in the passenger seat also means giving up a certain amount of control.  I’ve never considered myself a “control freak”, but I’m realizing that I like being the one behind the wheel.

This isn’t just an education for the boys, learning how to drive, but it is a learning experience for me too.  I am learning how to release them as they grow and mature, and I am flexing my trust muscles, trusting that when the time comes and they are behind the wheel on their own, literally and figuratively, that they would be wise and make good choices.

Life is like a Merry-Go-Round ...

Recently we learned of the tragic passing of Robin Williams, and as a result, there have been numerous articles and items circulating on social media trying to raise awareness of mental illness and depression.   I have only read through a few of those many articles, as I am quite aware of what depression looks like.  Up close and personal.  Not me personally, but my husband Eric. 

Eric has been battling depression for most of his adult life, and it feels like a constant merry-go-round (with a little less of the “merry” ... really just a “go-round”).    It’s not just a “go-round” for Eric, trying to plod his way through every day, but it’s a “go-round” for me too, praying and hoping for wholeness and healing.   But this is what life looks like for us, every day.  This is our “normal”. 

We were all around the supper table one evening last week and Eric tried to start a conversation with our sons about depression and suicide in the wake of Robin Williams’ death.  He apologized for not being able to do regular family things with the boys, like going on family camping trips, or taking them out golfing.  Our youngest son had a perplexed sort of look on his face and commented, “But we’ve never known anything different”.

   

I hope my sons know how tough their Dad is, to keep pressing on through life, even when most days he would rather just curl up in a ball and block out the world.  Eric sees himself as weak, but his perspective is skewed by his depression.  Eric’s depression shouts out to him that he is useless and a failure and depression doesn’t allow much ground for truth, the truth that he is loved, wanted and valued, to take root and grow.

I wasn’t aware that this is what life would look like for us when I walked down the aisle and said “I do” just over 25 years ago.  But I knew then, and I still know now, that Eric is who God has partnered me with on our journey through life.  I don’t know that I would have understood how important prayer is, or who God is for me, had I not been on this life path with Eric.

I will still continue to pray for wholeness and healing for Eric, and I will continue to have grace for him to be in the space he’s in, and I will continue to try and sow those seeds of truth.   But in the middle of it all, I will hold on (hang tight!) to my God, who is my strength, my refuge, and my hope.

Psalm 62 has always been one of my most favorite psalms, even before I met Eric:

¹ I wait quietly before God,
    for my victory comes from him.
² He alone is my rock and my salvation,
    my fortress where I will never be shaken.

⁵ Let all that I am wait quietly before God,
    for my hope is in him.
⁶ He alone is my rock and my salvation,
    my fortress where I will not be shaken.
⁷ My victory and honor come from God alone.
    He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me.
⁸ O my people, trust in him at all times.
    Pour out your heart to him,
    for God is our refuge.