Chapter 8 As He Guides Us Through

There's a very busy intersection near my home which is generally passable during the summer months, but when the school year starts, it becomes a royal quagmire, due in no small part to the high school, junior high and two middle schools just down the way. Between parents and teachers and driving teenagers, there are so many stinkin’ cars in the morning that mere traffic lights are unable to prevent the inevitable bottleneck that ensues.

So, starting in late August, a local sheriff gets up very early, presumably leaves his warm bed and ventures out into the middle of this crazy intersection to direct traffic. He parks his squad car nearby, disables the useless lights and then, with great posture in the center of it all, he starts his motions and his pointing. Within moments the traffic is under control and it’s just natural to defer to him and trust him as he guides us through. When it’s light enough, he uses his hands, but on dark winter mornings, he has those bright orange glow sticks and he looks like that guy who waves in big planes at the airport.

The sheriff ultimately does this traffic dance for about an hour or so every school morning, and, as can be expected, the conditions are usually not so favorable. The weather can be brutal, but even more amazing is his ability to stand firm and un-phased in the midst of cars and trucks and school buses speeding past him, each one coming within inches of hitting him as he adeptly navigates us through.

Quite frankly, I'm not sure how he does it—so many vehicles are coming at him at once, each with the option of going straight, left or right, from two lanes in four directions. It's dizzying to comprehend let alone do.

Every morning, though, there he is. I happen to be one who turns left, and when I do, my face is quite near to his for just a split second, and I smile. Not a big cheesy smile, but one with pursed lips and perhaps a slight nod to say “thanks for your sacrifice.” And he smiles back. Now I know he’s probably being paid for this thankless job, but I can’t imagine it’s much, and really, it can’t be worth getting nearly tagged every morning by a bunch of distracted drivers who are putting on their make-up or fiddling with their electric shavers as they juggle their cell phones and yell at their kids for forgetting to do their homework.

Not that I would ever do that.

And, then, as if those people aren’t bad enough, there’s a woman who always ends up behind me and she has a mean ol’ German shepherd that barks incessantly and lunges out from the back seat window and I swear one of these days that dog is gonna bite the nice sheriff or maybe swipe one of his glow sticks.

Anyhow, getting to my point, I suppose by now you've learned that I like to write about these little scenarios that I stumble across every day, the very ones you might also, so that collectively we’ll be reminded of a very real and living Savior.

Perhaps even One who ventures out into the middle of our busy intersections.

You see, life itself can become a royal quagmire for me, and it’s even more so now in the midst of this crazy holiday season. Sometimes I can't tell whether I'm coming or going and the mere traffic lights I’ve placed in my daily existence to somehow control the chaos—well, they're just not doing the trick and I'm kidding myself if I think they are.

And yet, this crazy holiday season is perhaps the best time to visualize an intersection turned bottleneck; one that was quite noticeable to a Father who sent His son to stand firm in the middle of these not so favorable conditions and forego himself for me and for you. This very Word knew that we weren’t quite cutting it on our own and so he left his rather warm existence and he got up and out, disabling our previously held notions of control. And he lives and dances in our midst every day—taking near hits, standing firm and un-phased as he endures lunges and taunts and jeers from unseen evil on our behalf, all to help us adeptly navigate this life, distracted as we are.

Perhaps it should be rather natural for us to thank him for his sacrifice. And trust him and defer to him each day as he guides us through.

I guess I say all of this so that the next time we collectively pass a sheriff or police officer or a crossing guard who is standing in the balance for us, making our commute just a little bit easier—maybe a smile will come when we think how close a certain Someone really is and how he took a thankless job on our behalf.

And who knows? We might just see a Harley parked nearby.