The Clutch
She moved the gear shift to first, tentatively pressed on the accelerator pedal, and lifted the foot on the clutch. The motor raced as she fed it gas. The car barely moved. It jumped forward--crow hopping across the road--and died.
In frustration she looked at her friend, "I can't do this! It's too hard!"
Trying to hide her smile her friend said, "You will figure it out. You've just driven an automatic for so many years you forget about the clutch. It's a matter of balance. When you pressed down with one foot, the other has to lift. It's just a matter of practice and balance."
"Right . . . balance . . . if I don't break our necks practicing."
"Try it again."
Pushing in the clutch, she started the car once more. This time the car bucked a little, but began moving. As she gathered speed moving down the street, she depressed the clutch and moved the gear shift to the next gear. With just a tiny lurch they continued forward. As she gained speed, she shifted again (more smoothly yet) to third gear.
Driving down the empty street she came to an intersection. "I want to turn."
"Okay, downshift to second after you slow, as you start to turn."
She slowed and began the turn to the right, pressing in the clutch, moving the gear shift, and let the clutch out again. They continued forward on the next empty street. Seeing a stop sign coming up, she pressed on the break. "Clutch, clutch, don't forget the clutch," called her friend and the car hopped to a stop--the motor threatening to die.
She pushed down the clutch and the motor sputtered, but kept running as the car stopped. Concentrating on her task, she shifted to first, pressed on the gas and lifted her foot with the clutch and the car moved forward. "I did it!"
And she did. They continued driving through the streets of the planned, but not yet built, subdivision. Turning from street to street, stopping at intersections, and driving the long straight sections. After about an hour of driving the empty streets, she was exhausted. "Let's switch and you can drive us home. I don't think I'm ready to deal with traffic yet."
"You can do it JoJo. There is very little traffic. Just try to drive part of the way. If it gets too hard you can pull over and I'll drive on home. Remember it takes practice and balance."
Reluctantly, she drove out of the empty subdivision onto the country road leading to town. Watching the traffic, she slowly made her way toward home. At times they jerked and once the motor stalled out, but they made it home. Each day they spent time driving and each day it got a little easier as she learned the balance of the dance to drive the stick shift.
Her confidence grew. Her skills improved. She learned how to move through traffic without hopping the car, killing the motor, or cracking the necks of her passengers. She was proud of herself. She had grown up driving automatics. No one had ever taught her to drive a stick shift. It was an unfamiliar skill. Her car needed repair and she hated depending on others for transportation. Her husband was out of town for work for several months, but his car was a stick shift.
Out of desperation and frustration, she had asked her best friend (who only drove sticks) to teach her. They had found a planned subdivision that had all the streets in place, but the developer had failed and no homes had ever been built. It was the perfect place to learn to drive with no traffic--just an empty lattice of streets only a few miles from their homes. So, she found herself lurching through the streets as she learned the balance needed to drive with a clutch.
Our spiritual lives are often that way. We learn the basics as children. Then something happens and our comfortable, easy life needs new skills for us to continue. Things are rough, we lurch along or forget to engage and find ourselves grinding to a sudden halt. We need new spiritual skills. Cruising along on what we have been taught in the past just isn't enough. We need to learn new skills--prayer, meditating, modeling God's love, worship, being part of a community, forgiving, starting over, reading and studying . . . and so much more.
Life is rarely smooth and easy. Like balancing between the clutch, the accelerator, the gear shift, planning ahead for the needs of traffic and the terrain, we cannot depend upon someone else--upon automatic spiritual life. We have to find a balance and need to practice our skills for them to become more natural. Along the way we fail, we succeed,, and over time we become more comfortable using our spiritual clutch.
God, with all the patience and love you have for us, teach us to balance our lives as we learn new skills and practice your ways. Teach us to love. Teach us compassion. Teach us to grow with you. Thank you for the people you put in our lives who also teach us about your love by living it in front of us. Help us to grow as we learn how to use our spiritual clutch. So be it. Amen.
In loving memory of JoAnn Cottrell who went to be with God--my friend, my sister, a piece of my heart. Until we meet in eternity--rest with God my beloved one.
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