Wide Load Coming Through

I was sitting in my car at a red light the other day. To my left, there was a median and a sign separating the north bound and south bound traffic lanes. It was a pretty busy intersection, and suddenly I noticed a big semi truck crossing over into the opposite lane beside me. It seemed to be making an awfully tight turn. I thought it was going to take out my bumper! It just missed me as the big rig’s back tires went up over the median and totally bent the steel sign to the ground.

I looked in my rear-view mirror as the truck came to a hault. A big white and red sign read, “Century College Commercial Truck Driving Program–Student Driver.” Oops! Guess they weren’t going to pass their test that day.

It made me think about my journey with my son’s autism. I feel like I’m trying to drive a semi after I’ve simply read through the owner’s manual, when I barely can navigate anything the size of a minivan. I really like my little Corolla, frankly, because I feel very aware of my space on the road, and I know that if I had to fit into a little parking spot–even if I had to parallel park–I could do it.

But, like it or not, I’m in a driver’s seat that I’m not feeling qualified to be in. I’m not a doctor, after all. I’m not a therapist, a teacher, a dietician, a nutritionist, or a psychologist. I’m a mom. I’m a communication’s director. As seriously as I’d like to take my job, I’ve always joked that if there was a typo, it’s not like anyone’s life is at stake. But with autism, I’m hauling a wide load on a busy street, and I don’t even know how to drive a stick shift! I know enough stuff after a year-and-a-half of this just to be dangerous. Ready or not, here I come, I guess. Because, as scary as the road ahead might be, I refuse to just sit in the parking lot.

I know the destination I would like to reach, for sure. So, God, I’m going to need to trust that you’re going to look out for my family. Come over the radio once in a while with a little, “Breaker breaker 1-9, King of the Road to Hoping Not Coping… do you read me? Detour ahead!” Sometimes I’m going to have to pull in to a rest station too, because a sleepy driver isn’t going to help anyone. So, God, rejuvenate me.

“Eighteen wheels and a dozen roses… a few more miles on this four day run.” Yeah, quite a few more miles!

 You go before me and follow me.
      You place your hand of blessing on my head.
Psalm 139: 5

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5 Responses

  1. Thank you! What insightful way of referring to the autism journey. Frankly, I feel the same way many days.

  2. I love how you’ve described the journey that we’ve been on for 2 1/2 years now. Initially, it felt like we were in a very dark tunnel with little hope of seeing sunlight again. The darkness seemed almost palpable it was so heavy. Now, the sun shines more often and the dark days aren’t quite so dark. We know we need to keep going. There is no giving up on this journey. We will forge ahead.
    I understand the need for rest too. It can be exhausting. And God has placed ME in the driver’s seat so I can’t really ask someone else to do the driving. I am learning to give myself some grace to not be “Superwoman” and to believe that ultimately God will decide what course this journey will take. So, I will choose to trust Him, to rest in Him, to simply ask Him for His help and guidance (the autism “road map” is hard to read at times), and to thank Him for all the progress our dear little girl has made.
    Tahni, THANK YOU for your encouragement on these pages of your blog journal. You’re the inspiration that many of us need on this sometimes lonely journey. Without you…well, I don’t want to think about how much more difficult the road ahead would be.

  3. Oh, yes.
    One thing I know for sure, though, is you will tune your ears for God’s voice over the radio. I’m so glad you do b/c you faithfully report back to me what He said – helping me on my journey. Until we reach the destination, we’ll keep on truckin’…

    BTW, I have a little Corolla, too.

  4. Love the metaphor; live the metaphor; breaker 1-9 “on your rear” right behind ya…i love that ham radio speak!

  5. Hey, you got an OWNER’S MANUAL with YOUR semi?!!! I feel like I’m out on this road running blind… and that all the rest stops are closed.

    I love the metaphor too. “Breaker, breaker 1-9 Stimtalk calling King of the Road. This model has no GPS. Do you copy King of the Road? Over.”

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