Trying Not to Run on Fumes Anymore...
Having to stop and get gas for my car annoys me.
It used to not be a big deal - in fact, I remember as a kid how fun it was when Dad would let us help him fill up the tank. I remember as a teen tugging the nozzle over to the license plate of my dad's '66 Mustang with such pride because I imagined that this action was surely drawing the attention of all bystanders, who would necessarily envy my sweet, powder blue Ride. I remember the thrill of knowing the cheapest gas stations in college, and being able to make the 6-hour drive home from Arkansas on just one $15 tank of gas in my tiny foreign car.
But now that I know what it's like to have a husband take care of all the credit-card-swiping and fuel-cap-removing and nozzle-positioning (often in the extreme Texas temperatures), I find that I would gladly sit in the still-cool car while someone else fills it up. Now that I have kids to take to Bible class or to swim lessons or to school or to Wal-Mart, I would just as soon try my luck on how far that car will run after the gas light blinks on. Now that I live in a city, where the gas stations are always in tricky places just off the interstate, requiring exits and u-turns and far too many stoplights, I dread that certain knowledge that if I stop for gas, I will add an extra 15 minutes to my trip - but if I don't stop for gas and run out, it'll be much worse.
So I'm learning to force myself to get gas when it's convenient but not urgent. Every time I go to Wal-Mart or Sam's. When I'm passing that new QT after church. The afternoon before I'm trying to leave town. I literally have to say to myself, "You must do it now. You'll regret it otherwise." Every. Time.
And lo and behold, it helps! I'm not perfect at this, mind you, and if you start quizzing my husband on how many times he's loaded us up on a Sunday morning to discover less than a quarter of a tank left, I'll deny everything. But I'm learning. I know it makes a difference.
I'm also learning that this concept applies to my spiritual/emotional/mental "fuel tank" as well. When I was younger, I took for granted the ways that I was able to constantly refill that tank: sleeping late, reading often, being alone, taking long walks. In some seasons, I even resented some of the refueling moments, wishing I had someone to be with, wishing I didn't have so much homework to do, wishing I weren't so bored, wishing I could get on with growing up, having a job, having a family. But it has now become clear that those moments were vital for me, that the other life moments could not have happened without them.
And as I did get on with growing up, as I did get that job, that husband, that family, I found myself putting off those pit stops, hoping my fuel would get me through another couple of days or weeks or months - just until it was easier or more convenient to stop and reenergize. But then the "easier" days stopped coming - there were no Spring Breaks or summers, no weekends full of nothing - and I was running on fumes, every bit as cranky and unreliable as that old Buick with the broken fuel gauge that used to leave me stranded on the side of busy streets in the middle of the day.
Slowly, I have had to learn to do this differently. I'm forcing myself to refuel regularly, to do it before it's urgent, to never see the gas light turn on. And I'm working to better understand what I need in order for that to happen: time alone, time outside, time in a book. Occasional visits to museums or antique malls, where I can joyfully ponder Life and Beauty and History and Philosophy, where I can lose myself in bigger ideas and beautiful things. Time at my computer, writing but not surfing. Time without my phone. Time with my husband, my best friend. Time playing with my kids, no agenda, no chores, only the barest of rules.
This stuff is hard for me. I like to get my tasks done, I like to "be there" for my kids, I don't like to feel like I'm being selfish or weak. But slowly, I'm learning that the tasks, the parenting, the superwoman-ing - they just can't get off the ground without something in the tank.
So here I am. Finishing off my favorite me-time lunch at the Kimbell buffet. Filled to the brim with girlie food, an hour of writing, and a long browse of the Montgomery Street Antique Mall. Ready to face a busy evening, a busy weekend, a busy month. And so very thankful - for the time, for the sitter, for the husband who understands what I need sometimes better than I. And, always, for the Creator Who rested. Who meets my needs, Who teaches me, Who loves me all along the way.
It used to not be a big deal - in fact, I remember as a kid how fun it was when Dad would let us help him fill up the tank. I remember as a teen tugging the nozzle over to the license plate of my dad's '66 Mustang with such pride because I imagined that this action was surely drawing the attention of all bystanders, who would necessarily envy my sweet, powder blue Ride. I remember the thrill of knowing the cheapest gas stations in college, and being able to make the 6-hour drive home from Arkansas on just one $15 tank of gas in my tiny foreign car.
But now that I know what it's like to have a husband take care of all the credit-card-swiping and fuel-cap-removing and nozzle-positioning (often in the extreme Texas temperatures), I find that I would gladly sit in the still-cool car while someone else fills it up. Now that I have kids to take to Bible class or to swim lessons or to school or to Wal-Mart, I would just as soon try my luck on how far that car will run after the gas light blinks on. Now that I live in a city, where the gas stations are always in tricky places just off the interstate, requiring exits and u-turns and far too many stoplights, I dread that certain knowledge that if I stop for gas, I will add an extra 15 minutes to my trip - but if I don't stop for gas and run out, it'll be much worse.
So I'm learning to force myself to get gas when it's convenient but not urgent. Every time I go to Wal-Mart or Sam's. When I'm passing that new QT after church. The afternoon before I'm trying to leave town. I literally have to say to myself, "You must do it now. You'll regret it otherwise." Every. Time.
And lo and behold, it helps! I'm not perfect at this, mind you, and if you start quizzing my husband on how many times he's loaded us up on a Sunday morning to discover less than a quarter of a tank left, I'll deny everything. But I'm learning. I know it makes a difference.
I'm also learning that this concept applies to my spiritual/emotional/mental "fuel tank" as well. When I was younger, I took for granted the ways that I was able to constantly refill that tank: sleeping late, reading often, being alone, taking long walks. In some seasons, I even resented some of the refueling moments, wishing I had someone to be with, wishing I didn't have so much homework to do, wishing I weren't so bored, wishing I could get on with growing up, having a job, having a family. But it has now become clear that those moments were vital for me, that the other life moments could not have happened without them.
And as I did get on with growing up, as I did get that job, that husband, that family, I found myself putting off those pit stops, hoping my fuel would get me through another couple of days or weeks or months - just until it was easier or more convenient to stop and reenergize. But then the "easier" days stopped coming - there were no Spring Breaks or summers, no weekends full of nothing - and I was running on fumes, every bit as cranky and unreliable as that old Buick with the broken fuel gauge that used to leave me stranded on the side of busy streets in the middle of the day.
Slowly, I have had to learn to do this differently. I'm forcing myself to refuel regularly, to do it before it's urgent, to never see the gas light turn on. And I'm working to better understand what I need in order for that to happen: time alone, time outside, time in a book. Occasional visits to museums or antique malls, where I can joyfully ponder Life and Beauty and History and Philosophy, where I can lose myself in bigger ideas and beautiful things. Time at my computer, writing but not surfing. Time without my phone. Time with my husband, my best friend. Time playing with my kids, no agenda, no chores, only the barest of rules.
This stuff is hard for me. I like to get my tasks done, I like to "be there" for my kids, I don't like to feel like I'm being selfish or weak. But slowly, I'm learning that the tasks, the parenting, the superwoman-ing - they just can't get off the ground without something in the tank.
So here I am. Finishing off my favorite me-time lunch at the Kimbell buffet. Filled to the brim with girlie food, an hour of writing, and a long browse of the Montgomery Street Antique Mall. Ready to face a busy evening, a busy weekend, a busy month. And so very thankful - for the time, for the sitter, for the husband who understands what I need sometimes better than I. And, always, for the Creator Who rested. Who meets my needs, Who teaches me, Who loves me all along the way.
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