I spent a lot of time in the car today, and that’s where I found most of my quiet. Here’s the parking lot at sunrise.

Today I found how terrified I am driving. I didn’t block it out at all with the radio. I was just there with it, and the roads, every inconsistency in the asphalt, every turn.

I wanted to turn on the radio in the car to drown out how frustrated and upset I felt after work. But I had vowed not to. I had to sit with all those feelings, until at last I broke into tears, God broke through to me.

I don’t remember the words or content of that exchange anymore, just the invitation to love myself, to respect myself, to be and become love.

Driving around by myself can be lonely. I long for someone in the seat next to me. Today, I understand the longing for that seat to be filled as a longing for companionship, a longing for God. For now, I embrace that empty seat, that invitation:

Be and become love.

I cannot pin anyone down to that seat; people will come in and out, and I just get to love them.

The practice of picking up the girls I babysit to bring them to gymnastics becomes a practice not just of opening up my car door to them, but opening up my heart. Inviting them into this quiet space together. They didn’t even ask for the radio.