When my father was in his thirties, he decided to change careers. My parents lived on half of his cushy salary at Ford Motor Company to save money, and then pulled up roots to move back to her hometown. He enrolled in theological school, and Mom taught kindergarten in the same room I teach two year olds now. It was a frugal period in their
life, but his call to serve the church was deep, and he could not ignore it.
Dad's first assignment was in California, and he bought a new white Vista Cruiser for the trip. It had two swanky features that I remember: there was a sunroof, and a button for cruise control. I think it made mom nervous when he took his foot off the gas pedal, but he trusted technology. He stretched his legs and drove us three thousand miles to our new
home on Riverdale Drive.
A dozen years later when I bought my first car it was a white '64 Mustang, and had no cruise control. But I loved it, and drove it to Chicago for my first real job.
When John and I bought a Toyota with cruise control, he was eager to switch to autopilot, but I wasn't. I have always wanted to stay alert and physically in touch with my
acceleration.
There is
an article that suggests that one of the reasons marriages suffer is because we resort to autopilot. Other concerns hijack the attention we had once granted our relationship and we merely coast without full attention.
The article also expresses that
we should adopt a mindset that "Your life is as important as mine." I know I can erode into self absorption, and forget that John has a constellation of demands on his time too.
One night I was annoyed that he was late for dinner and when he walked in the door his food was stone cold. He was already guilty, but I did give him a chance for a plea bargain.
"I was answering an email from someone who is
suicidal."
Oh.
My hope is that I will stay attentive in this marriage and keep from either veering off the road of running over any innocent bystanders. It would be amazing to arrive at our destination with all of our body parts in place.
