The last quarter mile

It’s crazy around here this weekend as I wrap up my next book and ready to head off to Washington DC next week. But in the midst of all this rushing around, I took the day to drive a friend to Walla Walla for a doctor’s appointment.

She’s perfectly capable of driving herself but hates to, and her husband works out of town during the week, so I offered to take her. I was feeling a great deal of pressure, not unlike the pressure I feel right now.

Deadlines are always pressure-cookers.

I handle deadlines pretty well but I suffer from a great deal of tunnel-vision. My family have lived with it so long now they know to keep the Diet Coke on hand and to leave me be.

I fear I’m not very good company at times like these.

In high school, I would often go trail riding with a girlfriend on the weekends. They were old horses, the kind that shuffle along a dirt path. Until, of course, they got into within a quarter mile of home and then those old horses would break into a gallop. And they didn’t care if you were holding on or not.

I’m kind of like those old horses, plodding along until that last quarter mile. Then it’s best to just get out of my way.

I was thinking about all that while waiting for my friend today. To be honest, I was thinking I really need to get back home and get to work. To which God yanked back on that leather strap and said, Whoa! Girlie! Serving others is the work I gave to you to do.

It was a beautiful drive.