Grace and the Bug Man

Last week I spent the morning running errands downtown. As the Office of Vital Records had been closed on Martin Luther King, Jr. day, the lines were long for all the people who needed birth certificates, copies of marriage licenses, and other such official documents. Being raised as a good girl of the South, I heeded the sign that asked all to silence their cell phones and got busy filling out paperwork.

My husband buzzed in to text that the bug guy had left a message for me to call him. The longer I waited, the more I wondered if there was a problem. I did not have an appointment for our quarterly spraying until noon, and it was only 11:00. As soon as I had the documents for our dossier in hand, I briskly trotted out of the building to return the call.

"Mrs. Davis, are you going to be able to make your appointment today?"

"Yes. I'm on my way. It's at 12:00pm, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sitting here in your driveway, but don't rush or anything."

I looked at the time. It was 11:20, and even though I was not late I found myself rushing home as if I had inconvenienced the bug guy. I had a conversation with myself in the car about how he was EARLY, and it was not my responsibility to keep him from waiting. Yet, having been raised in the south as a good girl, I remembered the voice of my Grandmother chiding me for making the family tardy to something...probably church. The "You must not be late. Good girls do not keep people waiting" button went off and I caught myself doing 80 mph down a hill on the interstate.

Still talking to myself, I marveled at how the words spoken to us as children can affect us, even as adults. "It's not my fault that you are early!" I spoke panicky to the dashboard. And when I pulled into my driveway, the service truck was indeed pulled in front of my door. I pulled into the garage and ran around to open the front door, but saw no sign of the service man. Perhaps he started treating the outside of the house, I thought, looking for him. And then, I stopped in my tracks as I noticed that he was SLEEPING inside the truck. He hadn't been worried a bit, but was happy for the opportunity to catch some zzz's while I sped home torturing myself for keeping him waiting. I had to knock on the window to wake him up.

Although I would never think that I care too much about what other people think, this interaction with the bug man has made me more aware of my weird behavior. I didn't even know this person. He was filling in for someone else, and yet I found myself speeding home to keep him from being unhappy.

God, may I only seek to please YOU, and not put pressure on myself that no one intends. Help me live in such a way that reflects the Truth that I know, and not spazz out operating on automatic pilot.

by Emily Freeman
Letting Go of the Try Hard Life