Letting God Drive.

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Ever feel like you're on a road trip you didn't know you signed up for?

When I was seven, we went to New York to visit my grandparents. It was a 26-hour car ride to get there and we were riding in a little blue Toyota Camry. My parents bought me a Babysitter Skipper Barbie doll set to entertain myself with on the trip, as well as some cassette tapes (remember those?) to listen to. We listened to those tapes so many times I can still sing the songs today. Songs about dogs and flowers and basketball and kids telling each other secrets inside a blanket fort. Good times.

At seven years old, I knew where we were going. However, I did not, at basically any point in the trip, have any idea where we were presently or how long it would take to reach our destination. In fact, I didn't really know what New York was. Some mysterious Other City I'd never been to. Though I'm sure I was angelic and I definitely didn't say this, my brothers probably asked my parents incessantly, "Are we there yet?" and "When are we going to get there?" The funny thing about that is that children that age (9, 7, 3) really have no concept of time, so asking when something is going to happen is sort of a pointless question for them.

Anyway, we got there. We made it. And we had a blast. I remember going to see the Statue of Liberty. Back then you could actually go all the way to the crown, and I remember looking up and seeing people sticking their heads out and waving. I remember seeing my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my great aunts and uncles, and my cousins. My great aunts had Nancy Drew books, which was really exciting. My grandparents had cable TV, which was even more exciting. At seven, I was pretty easy to please.

It was a wonderful trip. I still look back on it with fond memories. When I was having fun doing all of those things, I wasn't even thinking about the 26-hour car ride it took us to get there, or the subsequent one we'd have to make on the way home. It was a long drive, but it was worth it.

Fast forward to today, where I'm in a similar situation. I'm sitting in the back seat of my own life, clutching my metaphorical Barbie doll (which has now morphed itself into a laptop), asking God, "Where are we going?" and "Are we there yet?" basically every single day. Since I took a leap of faith and radically shifted my career path last year, I've been wondering where this car is heading - and I have yet to find out. So I've got my car tapes playing - dance, Netflix, Toastmasters, piano - and I've got my friends and family as traveling companions...but I don't know where I'm going or when I'm going to get there.

Whenever I ask God what to do now, He gives me only one instruction: write. This is a mystery for me too: I'm not sure what I'm supposed to write, who I'm supposed to write it for, or what I'm supposed to say. But that's all the instructions I've got, so that's what I'm going with.

The beautiful thing about sitting in the back seat is that, like my parents did, God knows where we're going and how to get there. He says in Jeremiah 29:11 that it's going to be a good place - just like New York City was. And based on His amazing track record in my life, I can trust Him to get me there safely. And maybe, just maybe, when I get there, I'll have some new Nancy Drew books to add to my collection.

So I'm writing. And I'm sitting back, resting, and letting God drive.

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