If You Keep Honking, the Traffic will (Not) Go Away

Have you ever been sitting in traffic and then all of a sudden you hear the obnoxious noise of the driver next to you who just can’t handle having to wait for the light to turn green?

I’ve been spending more time than usual in the car lately, and with that has come an abundance of traffic metaphors. I’ve said time and time again that God can use anything to bring us closer to him, and as of late, he’s been using my time in traffic. Obviously, the point of getting into a car is to get from point A to point B, and anything that gets in the way can be an inconvenience or nuisance. This isn’t so different from the journey we’re on in life: to get from wherever we are to our eternal reward in heaven. And I think we can all agree that there are MANY traffic jams and stoplights, road ragers and slow drivers that impede us from getting there RIGHT NOW. But every now and then, I think we receive grace in the form of fellow travelers who waves us along, allowing us to safely merge in front of them.

I’ve been reflecting on the different kinds of people we meet in life, and while I’ve had my share of road ragers, I’m becoming more appreciative of the people who wave me along. I’ve found that this kind of appreciation often erases the damage done by those who just make a lot of noise in hopes that I’ll do what they want, get out of the way and allow them to the front of the pack. I wanted to share one of the most impactful stories of my discernment year living in community with the Consecrated Women of Regnum Christi.

This story, of course, begins in a vehicle. I’ll condense the story and just say that it begins with me damaging not one but two of the community vehicles after picking up weekly donations. I sat in the house parking lot berating myself for not being more careful and sitting in disbelief over what I had done. Sure, it was an accident and I had not been driving carelessly, nor did I mean any malice. But in the moment, I was convinced that I was the worst person on the planet!

One of the women came out to the parking lot and was thanking me for picking up the donations. I slowly started to tell her what had happened, and as she examined the dents and scratches, she said, “It’s really not that bad. Don’t worry. This is why we have insurance.”

I remember calling my community director to tell her the bad news, and her reaction was similar. She told me not to worry, and she asked me if I was okay. I told her that aside from being worried about the cars and embarrassed, I was fine.

Then I told the woman who is in charge of the car I had dented. She saw me shaken up and said, “Can I give you a hug?” I needed a hug and received it as she went on to say, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Jesus doesn’t want us to worry about these material things.” I called my apostolic mentor to tell her what had happened, and she responded by telling me to come into my apostolate when I was ready, to take as much time as I needed to calm down, and that if I wanted to sit in the chapel with Jesus until I felt ready to come in that would be fine, too

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I sat in the room of another woman who, upon telling her what had happened, asked me, “What do you need? Do you want to just sit and talk? Do you want to pray? Do you want to play a game?” We sat and talked and played cards and then she told me about the time she also had a little accident in a community car.

Rather than feeling like I had to pull over and cry or get angry and speed up to pass by the criticisms, all of these reactions made me feel like it was possible to keep moving forward. I admit that I had a couple of moments where I thought to myself, “Isn’t someone going to yell at me?” I anticipated the blaring car horn because living in the “real world,” such reactions were what I was accustomed to. But that day I learned something of the real real world: By loving me, the community was making present now the world that awaits me in the Kingdom of Heaven.

Ever since that day, I’ve become more aware of how God sees me. That day, the women in my community showed me the truth of who I am, how mercifully God sees me, and how they authentically love me. I am by no means perfect. I make mistakes. I hurt people. But when I admit to these shortcomings, forgiveness is possible and my mistakes don’t define me. On that day, I started to believe even more that people are more important things and it’s important to make sure that people are seen, known, and loved. It’s easy to see, know, and love people when they’re doing everything right, but when you can see, know, and love people when they are not at their best, sainthood can happen.

I’ve thought a lot about why this experience has meant so much to me, and I have come to one conclusion: In this moment, I felt like I was loved the way that I am meant to be loved. When there was a “bump in the road,” I was greeted not by accusations and honking horns but by accompaniment and others paying my tolls for me. It was a lesson not only in how I deserve to be loved and that I don’t need to replay my mistakes in my head but also of how I want to love others, especially on their worst days. It was an experience not of a traffic jam but of moving one step closer to our ultimate destination in heaven.