I absolutely hate passenger seat drivers. Full disclosure, however, I am a passenger seat driver. I get it from my parents, actually. After 50 years of marital bliss, the most arguing that I see them engage in is typically because of one questioning the other’s driving abilities or lack thereof. It’s actually very entertaining as the “baby girl” to sit in the backseat and watch my parents lovingly shade one another.

My mom does it because she thinks her way is always most efficient, especially with her being a mathematical whiz. She takes pride in finding the short cut routes and looking at strategies in a more innovative way than most people. Sometimes, however, those same qualities lead her to become very impatient.

**Side bar: She is the only 73 year old I know that will bounce around the grocery store lines just to find the one she believes to be the quickest, only to end up with the ones that are just as slow.

And my dad, well, he is the total opposite. “Slow motion” should be his nickname, however, every now and then he will surprise you and go from tortoise to hare real quick! He actually thinks driving is an ongoing opportunity to sight see. You can find him on any given street (major or not) driving below the speed limit just to catch a glimpse of the most irrelevant things. Charge it to him being extremely observant and discerning when it comes to people and his surroundings. You can’t pull anything over on him…ANYTHING!

I remember one day my dad and I were driving home from a quick trip to Kansas City. We got the bright idea to make a day trip to visit my sister and my specialty doctor 5 hours away. Yes – that means we were on the road for 10 out of the 24 hours in the day. #notsobrightidea

We, of course, were met with unpleasant weather conditions which delayed our arrival time. And arrival of 8pm, turned into 10pm, after sitting in 5 o’ clock traffic for longer than I needed to and I was READY. TO. GO!

When we finally approached the city limits, we were presented with two different routes to use to go home. One route, I preferred and personally frequented the most. The other was the preferred choice of my dad’s and was what I knew for a fact, to be significantly longer.

As we approached the first exit of the two respective routes I saw his light flicker to merge into the lane closest to the exit. I immediately, perked up from cat nap recommending that he not go that way. I began trying to explain my reasoning to him and, in an attempt to shut me up, he obliged.

I asked him what made him finally go with my suggestion. He replied “I trust you”, and I know you wouldn’t steer me in the wrong direction, baby girl.” Turns out the other route WAS longer, but not only because of its distance, but because there was an accident.

I smiled and thought how many times as Christians we should simply “shut up and drive.” Meaning we should trust God (and not our own understandings), and allow him to order our steps because we KNOW that he has our best interest at heart.

But, here is a caveat for you, before taking advantage of that notion, you first must acknowledge who is riding shot gun. J