My Firstborn Gets His Driver's License
I didn't cry. I didn't fret. I did, however, take the Taurus through the car wash and vacuumed it before his appointment at the MVA. Cleanliness and order bless lots of people; my firstborn ranks those very high on his list of comforts. I wanted him to be as comfortable as possible for his driving test. This was the day he's been dreaming of for years, the day I had been dreading for years. At least I thought I'd dread it.
But today God gave me inexplicable peace. I waltzed into the MVA with my firstborn, watched him handle the paperwork and answer a few administrative questions, and then sat and waited for A86--our assigned number--to blink up on the overhead screen. I read a bit of literary criticism on Virgil's The Aeneid; my son fought post-nasal drip from a sinus infection. A gentle breeze blew in every time someone came through the front door. Sweet spring air.
He had worried yesterday and today that he might get a nasty guy who "had it in" for teenage guys, who lived to fail them. I said this morning, "Have you prayed for a nice, gracious one?" (I was remembering back to my own driving test at age 16; I took well over the allotted three minutes to parallel park, and fogged up all the windows from panting nervously inside the car on a cold November day as I kept hitting the curb. The kind old fella said, "Well, I'll pass you anyway.")
My towering teen got in the car with a diminutive, easy-going brunette who looked my age. I just sat peacefully on the bench and watched. He was so smooth. The parallel parking took all of 20 seconds. His 3-point turn looked great from where I sat. (He later told me the lady said he needed to "keep the car in the box" but that he was fine.) He stopped behind every white line, and always remembered to signal.
"He passed, " the nice MVA lady told me with a smile. "Let's go back inside and he can get his licencse."
He tried to hide his excitement. So did I. Public parental displays of excitement can be embarrassing. I actually felt excitement and a sense of pride. Not dread. I waited with him and then watched him again handle the next step of maturity: posing for his license picture. He was pleased with it. (The hair looked good.)
God, please give me peace again tomorrow when he drives alone for the first time. Keep him safe to and from school. Send a legion of angels while he's on the road tomorrow. Thank You.
Thank You for giving us a happy, beautiful day.
But today God gave me inexplicable peace. I waltzed into the MVA with my firstborn, watched him handle the paperwork and answer a few administrative questions, and then sat and waited for A86--our assigned number--to blink up on the overhead screen. I read a bit of literary criticism on Virgil's The Aeneid; my son fought post-nasal drip from a sinus infection. A gentle breeze blew in every time someone came through the front door. Sweet spring air.
He had worried yesterday and today that he might get a nasty guy who "had it in" for teenage guys, who lived to fail them. I said this morning, "Have you prayed for a nice, gracious one?" (I was remembering back to my own driving test at age 16; I took well over the allotted three minutes to parallel park, and fogged up all the windows from panting nervously inside the car on a cold November day as I kept hitting the curb. The kind old fella said, "Well, I'll pass you anyway.")
My towering teen got in the car with a diminutive, easy-going brunette who looked my age. I just sat peacefully on the bench and watched. He was so smooth. The parallel parking took all of 20 seconds. His 3-point turn looked great from where I sat. (He later told me the lady said he needed to "keep the car in the box" but that he was fine.) He stopped behind every white line, and always remembered to signal.
"He passed, " the nice MVA lady told me with a smile. "Let's go back inside and he can get his licencse."
He tried to hide his excitement. So did I. Public parental displays of excitement can be embarrassing. I actually felt excitement and a sense of pride. Not dread. I waited with him and then watched him again handle the next step of maturity: posing for his license picture. He was pleased with it. (The hair looked good.)
God, please give me peace again tomorrow when he drives alone for the first time. Keep him safe to and from school. Send a legion of angels while he's on the road tomorrow. Thank You.
Thank You for giving us a happy, beautiful day.
posted by Zoanna at
9:33 PM
1 Comments:
I have a lump in my throat and goosebumps at the same time. I can't even imagine what it's like to watch your son, once transported in your own body, now going through this rite of manhood: driving. It is precious, indeed!
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