Ellington Parkway and other shortcuts

I’m an impatient driver. This isn’t really news to anyone who’s ridden with me before. I like to drive and I don’t mind other drivers. I just don’t like traffic. You know, drivers in packs.

Because of this, I am armed with a backstreet knowledge of Nashville. (Not the kind that could get me arrested, mind you. I just know my way around.) One such shortcut is Ellington Parkway, which I take when driving from Music Row to Madison. It slices right up through East Nashville and eludes the congestion of the other two major routes north. It has helped me get to my Tuesday staff meeting at the church under the wire more than a few times with my car and my sanity intact. I like Ellington Parkway.

I work in a cafe where I make lattes and sandwiches for attorneys, bankers, accountants and other suit-wearing folk. I experience heavy sighing, foot tapping, watch checking, weight shifting, even line jumping practically every day. This isn’t elementary school lunch line behavior, friends. This is the impatience of well-paid, highly educated people who have somewhere else they have to be or want to be. Right now. They stress me out.

I realize I often act like I’m in a hurry myself, even when I’m not. Instead of a sunset, I see an orange and blue blur in my rear view mirror. Instead of having a conversation with a friend, I send a text message. Instead of reading a great book, I wait for the movie. I drive fast out of habit and wring as much out of a day as I can.

But the truth is...
I wanna take the long way.
Take my own sweet time.
Take a deep breath.

I think God tries to impress me with things sometimes, but I’m too busy dashing hither and yon to notice. My frantic pace costs me. And I’m disappointed that it’s come to this. God probably is too. I need to write more, read more, listen more, play more, rest more. Be more.

So I’m taking time to sit outside in the beauty of a late August afternoon to breathe, pray, think and write this blog.

Whew.

So asking as one chronic speed demon to another, can you tell me...

What’s your hurry?