D is for DRAMA

I've driven very fast a couple of times on the motorway, which is a bit out of character, since I can usually grow a beard by the time I've travelled its forty mile length, which either says something about my normal driving habits or else about my facial hair. One of the reasons for not acting like a rally driver on these long stretches, stems from an incident many years ago, when I was still a student and driving a car that was eminently less robust than my present vehicle but could still get up to amazing speeds with a following force nine gale. On one particular, starry night, on my way home from the big smoke, I had to pull in on the hard shoulder to check one of my tyres. There was little traffic on the road that night and I couldn't see a headlight in either direction but when I stepped on to the tarmac of the motorway, it was just like a skating rink, with a smooth, shiny layer of glassy ice, camouflaged against the dark background. I realised that if anything had happened, I would have had little hope of avoiding an accident and it was a lesson well learned.

The last time that I had cause to drive beyond the legal limit was just over two years ago when mum began to suffer very acute pain in her battle against terminal illness. Despite the doctor's heavy injections and his encouraging words, the pain didn't subside and the only alternative was to travel to the local hospital via the quickest route. The motorway was not only quick but also more convenient to the hospital and since time was of the essence, I chose it in preference to the main country roads where tractors and lorries often provide barriers that are well nigh impossible to overtake. And in hindsight, it was a good decision, for though the pain remained unbearable on the journey, the relief was just that little bit closer for all of us. It was indeed a night of drama.


So when one of our primary one boys closed his finger in the door this afternoon and the damage. partly concealed by blood, appeared to be more than any sticking plaster could solve, a quick discourse later and we were off on our way to the hospital again. Drama part two. Past history and an acknowledgement that this was the middle of the afternoon when town would probably be jammed with vehicles and soon we were on the slip road leading on to the motorway. But this was a journey with a difference, for no sooner had we pulled on to the main carriageway when up ahead, about five or six cars beyond, were the familiar yellow stripes of a police car, cruising along at exactly the legal limit. I was suddenly amazed at just how many other drivers were also travelling at the same speed and together we formed a long convoy in the outside lane, everyone on their best behaviour and watching the luminous four wheeler on the inside lane in the hope that they would choose the next exit. But they didn't leave the motorway until it was also our exit and then almost travelled right to the hospital in front of us. As my colleague remarked, it was almost like having your own police escort. Anyway, the drama didn't become a crisis and I hope that the injured is getting some tlc tonight.


Yes life is full of little dramas like that, which often only affect our own family unit, while the rest of the world goes on about their own business. Often it's the kids, with broken limbs, digestive problems, childhood illnesses, stings, bites, allergies, problems at school, fall outs with boyfriends or girlfriends, exams, adolescence or a whole range of other issues, each one a drama in its own right. And as we get older some of the dramas are actually our own but more likely to involve our parents as they succumb to the effects that Old Father Time has on their mental and physical well being. And you know, we get through them all, maybe not always in the way we had wished and maybe often with more than a few tears and sadness , for these dramas are not the stuff of films, the players are not acting, we don't have a script to tell us what to say or do and we don't always live happily ever after.


But Jesus says 'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' And I always remember the first line of that most famous of all Psalms 'The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want' and that other lovely line that says 'He restoreth my soul.' How precious to know that in the midst of life's greatest dramas, God is still there and waiting to comfort us. And the fact that He is always there, should always be a reminder as to how we live each moment of our lives. Not just when the police car's around.