Dear Yandi,
This story is about a time we tried to go to Towne East Mall. It didn’t go so well. I hope it makes you laugh!
The year is 1992. Our little family (to include Chris, Allison, Jason (9), and Jordan (4)) was heading to Towne East. What (or where) is Towne East? It is the largest (and nicest) shopping mall in Wichita, Kansas in 1992. And since we live on the west side, for us it is a little bit of a drive. Keep in mind we live in Wichita and really there are very few places that are further than a 15-to-20-minute drive. However, to us, at this point in our lives, a 15-minute drive is sooooo far and it has to be carefully considered before taking on such an endeavor. Admittedly we are a bit of an impatient people and are antsy after even a 15-minute drive. And to be more up front, that applies more to me than Chris or the kids. I’m 28 at this time and while I was acquainted with the fruit of the Spirit, I must confess that I often did not live it. Knowing and living it, we’ll therein lies the race.
Galatians 5:22-23: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, PATIENCE, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.
So yeah, working on those fruits daily in these days, but in 1992, not giving them a lot of thought.
So, for whatever reason, on that day in 1992 we made the big decision to go to Towne East. Loaded the kids in the car (again, Jason 9 and Jordan 4) and away we go.
Now I have a history when it comes to riding shotgun. I didn’t like to back track. Not one mile. Not one block. Not one house. What does this mean? It means I was a terrible back seat driver. I didn’t want to back track or go the long way. I wanted to get the task done and move on to the next one. While I was, again, only 28 years old, I was often tired (like many moms) and definitely not living in the peace that is from Jesus. I didn’t really learn of that attribute until almost 25 years later. Maybe a vague sermon, here and there where I hear the words and know there is some kind of amazing peace from the Prince of Peace. But to dive deep and really learn it, not in 1992.
I know what you’re thinking and you’d be right. I’m a slow learner.
Chris was driving on the trip to Towne East on this day. He likes to tell the joke ‘When Allison and I travel , we split the driving. I drive half the way; she drives all the way.’ Of course, meaning, whether I’m behind the wheel or in the side seat or back seat, I’m ‘back-seat’ driving. Driving the entire time. He thinks that joke is funny and while I don’t laugh when he tells it, when he’s not around I co-op the joke and tell it as my own. Why? Because it is funny. Just don’t tell him that.
So, Chris was driving and for whatever reason, during that time in our lives whenever Chris would drive somewhere, he usually took us through downtown. I don’t know why. There is no slower way and almost always guaranteed a back track. Looking back, he was probably poking the Mama Bear and it worked. It worked ….. well.
But on that day, I didn’t want to go through downtown or the park or through any other diversion. Get there. Get done. Go home. Do whatever was next on my list. Remember, the fruit of the spirit is not in action because I am busy. I was annoyed, so I decided to hone my already supremely developed ‘back seat driving’ skills.
Like this.
Me: Where are you going?
Chris:
Me:
Chris:
Me:
Me: Which way are you going?
Chris:
Me:
9-year-old Jason from the backseat with a clearly perplexed tone: ‘Where are we going?’
He was already sensing that something might become amiss, and he might miss out on whatever pair of shoes we would be buying. He knew where we were going. We all knew where we were going. So asking this question is an indication this might take a turn that Jason will not like. (And yes, it’s almost always correct to say we were buying Jason a pair of shoes. He was a shoe hoarder extraordinaire, even before it was the ‘in’ thing for the male of the species and he was very much about sport shoes, even at 9 years of age. Jason enjoyed his basketball shoes.)
4-year-old Jordan excitedly from the backseat: ‘We’re going to the mall!’ with complete (and unbelievably sweet) innocence, confidence, and anticipation. In fact, he was so innocent he had not developed any skill of reading the room at all at that point in his little life.
Chris: Forced to respond because while he doesn’t mind poking Mama Bear, he doesn’t want to ignore the boys. So, he says to me: ‘Tell me which way to go.’
Me: Completely disingenuous and feigning surprise ‘I don’t care what way you go; I just want to know which way that will be.’
Chris:
Me:
4-year-old Jordan: ‘We’re going to the mall!’
Chris: ‘You know, I’m able to make it to all the places I need to go even when you’re not in the car.’
And there it was. He had put it out there. Early on as well. Intent was being established. It was out there. And it was an acknowledgement of my true intentions, which is back seat driving all the way to Towne East. I could abide many things but calling me out in my back seat driving is not one of them. Seriously.
Me: ‘I just wanted to know what way you were going,’ I say dishonestly.
Chris:
Me:
Chris:
Me: Exuding a big, loud sigh which is a way to poke back at Chris. He despised (and does to this day) big, heavy sighs. (No, I don’t know why or what that is about, but it’s a fact.)
Chris (Instantly responding to the irritating ‘big, loud sigh’): ‘Tell me when and where to turn.’
Me still prevaricating: ‘I don’t want to tell you how to go, I just want to know how you are going to go.’
Chris, deciding to make a 100% commitment to what is going to become an event the family still talks about to this day: ‘I’m not turning until you tell me.’
Jason: ‘Oh no.’
Understand this, Jason could read a room, in depth and accurately at the age of two. So, by the age of nine, he had advanced to beyond ‘pro status’ when reading a room. This kid was smart and very alert to room ‘vibes.’
Jordan, with just a smidge of question in his voice: ‘We’re going to the mall…?’
Me: Completely offended that Chris would insinuate that I’m such a back seat driver that I need to tell him which way to go, which of course is only 100% spot on. ‘I’m not telling you how to go.’
Chris: ‘I’m not turning until you tell me where to turn.’ Very bold and entrenching fast.
Me: ‘I’m not telling you where to turn.’
Now we’d already made it most of the way there and turned onto a street named Woodlawn which is very close to the mall. Towne East is (give or take) one ‘main street’ over, about a mile. Since we were that short mile away, pretty much one right turn will take us to it. If Chris doesn’t turn soon then we will have to back track. I did not LIKE to back track. Chris knew this was the moment of truth for me as back tracking was my Achilles heel.
Chris (almost casually and holding the trump card): ‘I’m not turning until you tell me to turn.’
Jordan: ‘I want to go to the mall,’ in his sweet, little voice, while actively (and unhappily) developing some situation reading skills.
Jason just laid his head back on his seat as he already understood the score. Dad doesn’t get really mad ever. Almost never in fact. But when he does, you don’t want it focused on you. Resigned, he goes into silent mode like any smart 9-year-old, sensing potential danger.
But I didn’t. I’m not 9. And I wasn’t particularly smart.
However, what I was is mad now and there was a point to be made. There is no way I can tell him when to turn as that would be admitting I am a terrible back seat driver. I’m in full drama queen mode which equals being extremely annoying and self-centered.
Me: ‘I’m not telling you where to turn. You can go to Nebraska for all I care.’
Jordan: ‘I don’t WANT to go to Nebraska!’
Chris:
Me:
Chris:
Me:
Jordan, in fear: ‘Where is Nebraska?’
Chris: ‘I’m not turning until you tell me to turn,’ this was said in his calm, yet resigned voice.
Jason: Little sigh as his worst fears are confirmed. No shoes today.
Me:
Chris:
Me:
Chris:
We are about a mile north of Kellogg now. And I was not talking no matter what. It ain’t happening.
And Chris was content to just drive.
So, drive he does.
North on Woodlawn. Past Central. Past 13th. Past 21st. Past 37th.
Just driving.
Even Jordan understood what was happening and dealt with it in a very Jordan way (which meant sweet).
Jordan: ‘I sure wanted to go to the mall,’ as he laid his little head back and drifted to sleep.
Now what kind of parent ignores the sweetness of such a little guy as well as a 9-year-old who has sadly resigned himself to no new shoes?
These parents.
No way would I give in now. I was not a back seat driver. I was just asking a simple question.
And Chris was not buckling. He’d had about enough of my, yes, my back seat driving.
So north we go. North, North, North.
Driving. Driving. Driving.
Out of Wichita into Bel Aire. Driving. Out of Bel Aire. Driving. North.
Driving.
Now Newton is a town north of Wichita about 30 miles. Yep. That’s right. 30 miles.
But don’t worry. We didn’t make it clear to Newton that day. Why not?
Well, I personally believe because God is a good God and perhaps looked to help even his self-centered, wayward daughter this day. I believe in the Old Testament that he called the Israelites ‘stiff necked’ as well as declaring they had ‘hard foreheads.’ I know this as I’ve read it and I am very judgmental of those Israelites. Good grief, who could repeatedly ignore the commandments of God? It’s so apparent, yet time after time, after time they ignore them because they are ‘stiff necked’ and have ‘hard foreheads!’
Well, on this day, his child Allison was completely ‘stiff necked’ and was riding down Woodlawn with the ‘hardest of all foreheads.’ Maybe not wandering around the desert, but we are wandering on Woodlawn Street and wondering just how far north it might go. And I’m sure, somewhere in heaven the Israelites are pointing and saying, ‘She’s so stiff-necked!’
Maybe, just maybe he helped anyway. How? Well Woodlawn was under construction and at about 111th street north there was a road closed sign.
A literal sign ‘Road Closed.’ What did Chris do? He went around it.
I kid you not. Drove right around it! So, while I may be ‘stiff-necked’, I know a guy.
We continued our trek north. As I was completely entrenched in this goofy, ridiculous argument, I say nothing.
Chris:
Me:
Jason:
Jordan: Sleeping
We kept driving another half mile or so until there was another road closed sign. But there is good news. With this particular sign you couldn’t go around. The road was blocked.
Chris, as calm as ever, pulled up to it (and I mean RIGHT up to it with the front bumper almost touching the sign (assuming to make a point of some kind), put the car in park and turned it off. There isn’t another car or soul in sight. This party was over.
Chris:
Me:
Jason:
Jordan: Sleeping
5 minutes go by.
Chris:
Me:
Jason:
Jordan: Sleeping so well and so peaceful and, admittedly, we’re all a little envious.
10 minutes go by.
Chris:
Me: I’m sorry. Let’s go home.
Chris: Started the car and we went home.
I’m mad, but contrite
Jason was mad, but smartly said nothing. He recognized and responded appropriately to the ‘no win’ situation he was in.
Chris. Well Chris won. He was a pretty happy dude. He didn’t smile. But I certain he wanted to.
And my days of back seat driving are over. At least with Chris they are mostly over. I still, on occasion slip into that mode. But not as often.
Also, you must know, that Jason and Jordan did get their shoes the next weekend. We actually made it to Towne East Mall (by way of downtown) and the boys were delighted.
My reward for no longer back seat driving? Chris now is, hands down, the worst back seat driver by far. I’m not sure when it happened, but it has. Sowing and reaping. Sowing and reaping.
I have to say, I deserve it. For the first 8+ years of our marriage, I was the worst. I was. Can’t deny it. Now, whenever we go somewhere, I usually drive. I like it when Chris drives, but he doesn’t like to anymore. Because of all the driving he’s done for his business, at the end of most days he has no desire to drive. And I love my husband. Completely. So, if it makes his life a little better for me to drive, I don’t mind. But I must say, when Chris and I travel on vacation, we split the driving. I drive half the way; he drives all the way.’
I get it Chris. I get it.
