Eight of our children drive. It is easy to say this now but there were tense moments getting here. One of the lessons lasted less than three minutes before we both raised our voices. John handled it better. 

New sewing students begin with a driver's test. We start with straight lines, then curves, and graduate to sharp corners. Fortunately, no injuries result from these efforts. Still, it does give me pause before handing over new fabric.

It occurs to me that all of us are wobbly before we can steer. Until AI takes over our social interactions, and self-driving cars become the norm, it seems inevitable that we humans will flounder. And crash. Maybe this says something other than that we are losers. Interstates are difficult to navigate, as are office parties. 

I watched a baking show recently where the contestants were given ingredients with almost no instructions. The judges apparently thought this would be fun. They know how to make pastries, so surely everyone else does. 

All six of the bakers bombed. The appearance was less of a defined shape and more of a dropped pudding. Flavor was an issue as well, with some being judged as underbaked, while others were deemed dry. One poor baker was told it was inedible, and she started to cry. I felt miffed at the whole thing. Why set people up to fail?

It turns out that I am not in charge of that show's ratings, or the DMV, or who is allowed to buy a sewing machine. 

But I calm down when I remember that the One who is gradually giving us the keys to our own life is merciful.