The Way I See It…

Sometimes things seem to go wrong before my very eyes. 

Often, I have no trouble believing it… 

So many people I know have experienced crazy car problems lately.  New vehicles have such futuristic features these days, and I’ve heard one story after another about these very things malfunctioning: Sometimes in majorly frustrating ways.    

I’ve had my car for three years now.  I often find myself feeling thankful that I still really like it and shouldn’t need a new one any time soon.  Especially since, so far, I’ve had good luck with it.  None of the problems that seem so prevalent in many post-pandemic models. 

Every time I say or even think that, though, I also inwardly wince a little, hoping my time isn’t coming…

So, on the recent day when I suddenly noticed that something did not look right, I suppose I’d almost expected it.  But I still didn’t want to believe it. 

It happened as I drove into a local town well-known as a speed trap.  It’s especially well-known as such by me, since I’ve taken home speeding tickets from both ends of said town.  I wish I’d learned the first time, but clearly, I did not. 

However, after making that mistake and suffering its consequences twice, I did eventually learn that the painfully slow speed limit takes effect way sooner, and applies way further, than I’d once (or twice!) noticed.  So, on this particular day, as I passed the sign where it abruptly drops by twenty miles-per-hour, I knew very well to pay attention. 

And that’s when I noticed it.

Normally, I can see my speed displayed in the windshield just above the steering wheel.  That day, I realized how much I rely on that feature.  Because when I glanced down in a conscious effort to avoid the weird, weak, adrenaline-fueled thing my legs do when blue lights appear in my rearview, I saw nothing but the road ahead.  No numbers in the windshield. 

“I knew it.  Futuristic feature failure.  My time has come!” I thought.  But I still hoped not.  Maybe I’d inadvertently changed something.  Like that one time when I’d meant to change the radio but instead made my “petrol” gauge display “kilometers” to empty instead of “fuel” and “miles.”  (Incidentally, an added challenge I don’t need since my tendency to cut that too close outrivals my tendency to drive too fast in places I shouldn’t. But I digress.)

I started thumbing through the steering wheel controls, scrolling to figure out whether I’d done something wrong - or if something was wrong.  Ironic, since this had begun with my determination to be so extra careful.  Now, I was just distracted and probably even unintentionally reckless.    

I’d tapped a bunch of menus, clicked a bunch of arrows, and still saw no windshield numbers.  And then…

“Wait a minute…  Could it be…?” 

It was.

Turns out, there wasn’t a thing different about or wrong with my car.  The only “problem” was my distorted view, thanks to the polarized lenses in the sunglasses sitting, at that moment, on my face!  Sliding them down my nose to peer over top of them revealed a windshield that looked exactly as it always had.  Numbers and all.       

What a relief to know that among my problems that day, car trouble wasn’t one!  Thankfully, I’d figured that out before I’d complained about it to anyone else. (…It might have taken a while to live that one down!) And before I’d messed anything else up trying to “fix” it. 

Pretty ridiculous, right?  But are you ready for something even more ridiculous? 

It wasn’t the first time I’d made that mistake, either!  With those exact sunglasses - in my car.  The first time, they’d momentarily made me believe something was wrong with the audio screen.  And now I’d done it again!?   

How many times must I repeat the same mistakes before I learn?  (When it comes to speeding tickets in one town and sunglass “malfunctions,” at least two.  Apparently.) 

As so often happens, and in a way that I believe for sure is never a “coincidence,” I began to notice some parallels between this experience and other areas of my life. 

Areas so much more important than my car…

In Learning to be Me, I told you the truth about how challenging life has often felt lately.  I mentioned how I’m learning to just expect that, and to keep looking for the best in it, no matter what.  Good thing, I guess, because last week kept on offering up challenges... 

A few days in, I couldn’t miss it.  Each day had brought something for someone I love.  Three distinct circumstances had made my heart pound:   An “incident” that brushed too distressingly close to having become an accident.   A serious mistake that didn’t automatically come with a second chance.  And a discouragement that threatened to extinguish a hope that’s recently shone brightly. 

It had begun to look like a bad week, and I found myself thinking:

“What in the world? What next? Why?”   Recklessly, I saw things that way for a little while.  And then…  

“Wait a minute…  Could it be…?” 

It was.

I read and pray two Psalms every morning.  I truthfully just don’t always know what to pray, but I trust these two passages to cover everything I fall short of asking on my own.  For myself and my own life - Psalm 86.  For those I love - Psalm 91. 

Between the two, it means I’m asking God every morning to hear me, listen to me, and answer me.  I’m telling Him that I trust Him to have mercy and to show me His goodness in my life.  I’m also asking Him to take the ones I love under His wings; to guard them in all their ways.  I’m telling Him that I trust Him to rescue and protect them. 

I know exactly how often I present Him with those requests and promises, so why do I so less often notice how He really does listen - and answer?  As I began to remove the lens through which I’d been viewing each of these trials, I could suddenly see.  Humans had caused them.

But He had done all the things I continually ask of Him. 

He’d protected.  He’d provided a completely unexpected second chance.  He hadn’t allowed discouragement to overtake hope for very long.  And in each instance, He had helped me know what to say, what not to say, and always where to turn and point others…

Why do I find it so much easier to believe my problems than to see His goodness? 

A distorted view can be so convincing.

When I rely on my feelings, my circumstances, the news of the day, or any other temporary thing to tell me what’s true, I’ll almost always be misguided.    

I did that, not once, but twice last week. 

It distracted me toward recklessness.  Needlessly so. 

It, at least momentarily, disappointed me in what was never wrong at all. 

It reinforced for me the need to discern:  To trust what I know more than I trust the way external factors can easily make things look.     

It taught me, twice, that the correct lens is always vital. 

It taught me, twice, how comforting, how unburdening it feels to realize when the only thing “wrong” is my perception.  Especially when I figure that out before I make things worse by complaining or taking matters into my own hands. 

Clearly, I often make mistakes twice before I really learn. 

I want to believe that maybe, last week, I finally really learned.