On February 6, I set out for Marion, IN. The plan was for me to get to Marion February 6th, hang out with friends for a couple of days, speak on Sunday the 8th, and head back to PA Monday morning. But after driving only one hour, my plans were put to a halt.
I was driving just outside of Youngstown, when I ran into some heavy traffic. I hit the brakes and slugged along at 10 miles an hour. This slow pace lasted only a minute or two before traffic sped up again, and I hit the gas eager to get going. As I did, however, I noticed that the car didn’t pick up like it normally would. The RPMs climbed to 4 then 5 while the speedometer was barely reaching 50. At the same time, I noticed a flapping fwhoop, fwhoop, fwhoop noise coming from the car. I needed to find a place to stop.
With a strange calmness, I started scanning for a good place to stop and made my way through the four lanes of traffic to the far right. Within a mile, I’d reached an exit and found a Taco Bell to pull into. Just as I made it into the parking lot, however, I lost all power steering and all the lights came on. I coasted to a stop. I tried to restart the car, but the engine wouldn’t turn over.
And then I realized my nightmare had come true. I had broken down alone. As I let this thought come in, I felt my throat tighten and my chin quiver. “You’re fine,” I reminded myself. Then I called my dad.
I felt much better after arranging for my rescue and informing the Taco Bell employees of my plight, so I walked back out to my car. As I did, I thought to myself, “What am I going to do for three hours? I wish there was a coffee shop around here.” Just as I thought that, I looked up, and noticed a Starbucks across the road. I was so excited.
I grabbed some books, a journal, and some money and abandoned my broken down car for a cushioned chair and a tall white chocolate mocha. As I sat there listening to soft jazz music and scribbling thanks in a spiral notebook, I felt a wave of relief sweep over me. “I don’t have to be anywhere or do anything for at least three hours,” I sighed.
Then I opened up a book I was reading and saw the story of Martha and Mary. “But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made…” it said. It’s the typical bible story about busyness, and we always read how Martha was “upset about many things but only one thing was needed.” I had read it a hundred times.
But this time, in Starbucks with a broken down car, it was different. Why was I so relieved to have nothing to do? Why did it feel so good to read my bible and journal and be alone for three hours that Friday afternoon?
I thought back to the week leading up to Friday. I had spent all week scrambling around getting ready for the weekend. I had worked every day making phone calls, cleaning, packing, e-mailing, and had taken little to no time for myself or for God. I was so worried about all the things I needed to do to be ready to speak on Sunday night, that I had forgotten the “one thing” that was needed. Time with Jesus.
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