I didnít mean to slow him down, but I merged into the lane ahead of him and I guess he wanted to go much faster than the speed limit. He was trapped behind me for two, maybe three minutes and had to go 40 in a 35 mph zone until the car to our left […]

I didnít mean to slow him down, but I merged into the lane ahead of him and I guess he wanted to go much faster than the speed limit.

He was trapped behind me for two, maybe three minutes and had to go 40 in a 35 mph zone until the car to our left moved out of the way. I saw his hands go up in frustration, saw in my rearview mirror the angry way he looked at me.

In a flash he was past me, probably driving at least 50 or 55 mph until he came to a red light and I came up beside him what seemed like only a few seconds later. He raced ahead again, zipping in and out of the lanes, only to be caught by the next red light Ė and only to find himself one car length ahead of pokey olí me.

All that work and all that angst, and he wasnít much closer to where he wanted to be than I was.

I wonder how often I do the same thing. Push. Prod. Maybe even provoke. Only to arrive at the same place I would have without all the rushing.

I remember Mama reading to me about the tortoise and the hare but I think I may have packed that lesson away with the rest of my childish toys. I must have folded up the idea that slow and steady are OK along with the doll blankets Mama quilted for me.

Iíve little time for lingering now, little time for being still or even doing just one thing at a time, and Iíve fallen in love with efficiency at the risk of speeding past what is most important.

When the light turns green, maybe itís time to ease up a bit on the accelerator and take lifeís curves a little slower. Maybe itís time to let God set the pace.