The email was from my husband and the subject heading was “challenging thought”. We were in the midst of a “conversation” regarding the right choice for our next family vehicle. I was thinking SUV, he was proposing what I found to be the unacceptable alternative; rhymes with ‘tan’ and starts with ‘mini’. “I know a mini-van is not what you want, but maybe it is what our family needs”, he wrote, and went so far as to send the link to a local dealer with a few options of used mini-vans. After taking the virtual tour, I replied with a single word, “YUCK”. Admittedly an entitled, privileged and immature response, but the best I could do at the time. As a stay-at-home mom, I had already traded in my work clothes for leggings and my styled hair for the mama ponytail. I kinda felt like the witch in the Wizard of Oz when she gets doused with water and melts into the ground. This purchase was sure to be the final straw that left me in a puddle.

Now eleven years later, we recently said goodbye to the mini-van. And you know what? I was sad. I took a picture. My heart felt heavy thinking about the amount of life that took place in that van. It all started with the arrival of our daughter. We had waited so long for our pack to be complete and I was overjoyed at needing more space to accommodate our bigger family. The miles account for so much growing and living and learning. Those four wheels took us to school, sporting events, music lessons, doctor visits, play dates, vacations, family reunions. We laughed in that car, cried in that car, yelled in that car, prayed in that car. We sang and danced and slept and ate in that car.   Both of our sons learned to drive in that car. First dates, high school graduations and dropping our first off at college in that car.    

The automobile blues have got me thinking; why is it so hard to be content as a parent? Is there such a thing? Being content is defined as “a state of peaceful happiness”. No question I am happy. I’m back in a Volkswagen and am loving it. I should have had the windows down when driving it off the lot shouting “yahoo!” as I passed the broken down mini. It is not the happy I have a problem with. It is the peace.  My heart is not at peace about saying goodbye to the phase of life when the mini-van made sense. Sure, I was dressed in leggings, hair pulled back, The Wiggles tunes blasting, throwing goldfish back to the hungry kiddos, but I had so much time with them ahead of me. Looking in the rear-view mirror, I saw chubby little faces and heard intoxicating giggles while they played with the latest and greatest toy. I was happy. But, even then, I couldn’t claim a peaceful heart. I was constantly distracted with worry about these amazing little people I was in charge of raising. And now that so much of that raising is done, I want to pull a Ferris Bueller and turn back the odometer if it would give me just a bit more time to have them buckled in with me at the wheel; planning our route, deciding when and where to turn and ensuring we arrived at our destination safely.

One morning, when the kids were young and we were rushing off somewhere, my neighbor across the street and I both backed our cars up at the same exact time – right into one another. We couldn’t have executed a cleaner accident if we had planned it. His car was fine; ours had a decent dent in the rear bumper. That bumper stayed dented for the next nine years. It actually became the identifying marker for anyone who spotted the van and wondered if a Johnson was at the wheel. For me it’s a good reminder to slow down, look before I leap and breathe. I can’t go back to those mini-van days and the miles before me are not yet mine to navigate. Today, however, this moment, is all mine. And if I can place it in park and absorb what is before me, I am promised “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, (and) will guard (my) heart and mind.” (Philippians 4:7) It is a daily challenge; sometimes moment to moment. But I am learning, however slowly, “in whatever situation I am to be content.” (Philippians 4:11)