March 6, 2012
Therefore, let us celebrate the feast, not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. 1 Corinthians 5:8
I sit in the front passenger seat, claiming the familiar position of the navigator and wielding the printed out directions to our unfamiliar destination. We have not been here before.
My husband drives the rented car; our daughters take in the new landscape from the novelty of a more expansive back seat than they are used to.
“What am I looking for again?”
“We need exit number 10,” I reply as I scan the signage along the nighttime highway, “It will be about nine more miles.”
I wait a beat before I speak again, “You’re in an exit only lane—you need to merge left.”
“I see that.” And then, “Thank you.”
Times past this would not have been a courteous conversation, but one accompanied by impatient accusation and pointed commentary. I confess some skill with adding caustic words to the mix.
But we have learned along the way to be more gentle with each other in our marriage. We know this navigation dance. We have been here before.
As we drive along in the darkness, I give thanks for our schooling—and the aftertaste of kindness.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012