The Dreaded Car-Ride Question

 

"Gramma, how much longer?"

It's an understandable thing, when you're six and full of energy, and perpetual motion is basically you're superpower, to feel somewhat constrained and perhaps distressed by being in a car seat for any length of time.

Gramma's best efforts to pack snacks, and books, and count the cows can't compensate. Even when we 'cheat' and set up a device to watch a movie in the van, interest wanes and the inevitable question is asked.

Many times.

It would probably interest some psychologist somewhere how my answers change throughout the duration of the drive home.

It starts with a very sympathetic realism, kindly explaining time in constructs a six year old might be able to grasp, about 'after lunch' and 'before supper', with suggestions for how we might pleasantly pass the time together.

In the middle (after the question has only been asked 4,502 times) I try the imaginative 'what if we could fly?', or 'let's invent a teleporter' game where we end up not just home in record time, but on the moon or other ridiculous places.

But in the end (where I've lost count), I confess, I resort to all-out sarcasm where it will take us three months to get home. Because by now it's starting to feel a bit like that for everyone.

Except Timothy. Timothy is quite happy to occupy himself by singing the alphabet song complete with grandiose, crescendo'd endings, until suddenly he stops singing and I turn to see he's fallen asleep. Way to go Timmers. Sorry to his Mom for the later bedtime tonight.

And I should mention that there are two very reasonable teenagers in the very back happily occupying themselves in conversation about the characters in the book series they are concurrently reading. Now that's a bonus!

Jayden, however.

Poor kid.

It was a long ride home.

And.

Sarcasm aside, I get it. Because I can be like that. Impatient on the journey. How many times have I asked God the very same question? "How much longer?"

I'm not alone.

Psalm 13:1

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts

and every day have sorrow in my heart?

Sometimes life seems like an excruciatingly drawn out car ride.

And I wonder if God, knowing that this is the only way home, just wants us to settle in and cease striving and count the cows for a while until we get where we're going.

2 Peter 3:8-9

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not willing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.

In no way do I want to diminish the way pain and suffering draws out time. It does. And I think Jesus, hanging on the cross for all those hours, knows this. He does.

And.

We will get there.

Maybe singing is a good thing here.

Or taking a nap.

Trusting that the journey is exactly what gets us home.

The first thing that happened for Jayden upon arriving at his house was to be greeted by his playmates who basically swarmed him. And they ran around like crazy on the grass for a bit.

I think it will be like that.