Check Your Mirrors

The other day, I was driving along in my pretty blue Nissan Rogue Sport, my sweet little thing I bought after I wrecked the family van over a year ago, the biggest personal expenditure I’ve ever made in my life, my precious sapphire-blue Rogue that I love, listening to some 1990s Third Day CD, having a great time . . . when my rear-view mirror suddenly fell to the floor.

I mean, out of nowhere, people.

I cannot tell you how disconcerting this was. For the record, I got home safely. I was able to easily slip the mirror back in place when I stopped – and I’ll be taking the Rogue in for its six-month look-over soon, so I’ll ask them to make sure that won’t happen again.

But those of you who read my blog even on an infrequent basis KNOW that I immediately started looking for spiritual significance in this situation. Because that’s what I do now.

Here was my first thought: I need to stop obsessing about what is behind me. That’s the past. I’m beyond that. My focus needs to be on what’s ahead. And yes, this is legit. I went through a deep period of needing to examine my history – my personal history, my relationship history, my spiritual history – to see what was real, what was not, what was misinterpreted, what needed healing, what needed to be let go of, all that.

But honestly, I think that’s over now. Not that God won’t be pulling something up again for me to deal with someday, but I’ve done a lot of work there. I’m not rehashing. I’m moving forward.

Here’s the thing, though, about that rearview mirror in my precious sapphire Rogue: it is not actually there for me to look back at where I’ve been. Its real purpose is to help me keep an eye on other vehicles around me. To keep me from inadvertently causing problems in the traffic flow. To prevent my running into someone because I don’t know that they’re there. And to help me get out of the way before they run into me.

Ahhh . . . that’s different. But also important.

During a painful conversation many years ago, a family member accused me of plowing through the house all the time, expecting everyone else to just get out of my way. That was a surprising accusation. I still don’t think his perception of me was accurate (unless he was talking about me as a sleep-deprived young mom . . . I’ll own up to my disagreeableness in that state). But I did try to be more conscious of how I walked through his house after that. More aware of the people around me.

And I’ll admit that I haven’t always been so aware. I fear that I was a rather selfish young woman in a lot of ways. I primarily considered other people’s existence in terms of how they affected me, I suspect. I doubt that I was unusual in that regard – we Gen Xers have a lot of navel-gazing tendencies. But it’s still not something I’m proud of. I sincerely hope I've grown . . . and I think I have.

Last week, I made a big mistake in an interaction with someone. And I was mortified because it really hurt that someone. I knew better. I just wasn’t thinking. And it caused damage to another human being. But I met with the person I hurt and sincerely apologized. It was entirely my fault, and I owned it. She graciously forgave me; I think everything is good now. And I learned yet another life lesson (they never stop coming, do they?).

One of the teachers on my team describes our job as very “people-y”. And yes, that’s exactly what it is, which is one of the most difficult things about it. But let’s be real: LIFE is just a people-y thing altogether. It behooves us to be aware of those in our travel space, yes? Keep checking those mirrors. Slow down to let someone in. Pull into the right lane so others can pass. We’re all fellow travelers. Let’s be courteous on the road.