Dear Lord, I humbly ask for your guidance as I navigate the roads this morning. With a restless baby nursing at 4:00 a.m., I find it hard to keep my eyes open until I get my much-needed coffee.
Speaking of coffee, could you please make the drive-thru line at Starbucks a bit shorter today? It would be wonderful if working moms and those with little ones could have a special “fast pass,” similar to what you find at amusement parks, allowing us to skip ahead of anyone casually enjoying a crossword puzzle or donning flip-flops—because honestly, flip-flops should not be part of any serious outing.
As I sit waiting at the traffic light, watching the colors flicker from red to green to yellow and back again without progress, remind me to embrace patience and contentment in this moment. Also, please nudge the driver ahead of me to set aside his phone and focus on the road.
When I finally pass a distracted driver, perhaps engrossed in texting or animatedly chatting (arms flailing wildly), and I feel the urge to express my frustration, remind me that my little ones are listening intently in the backseat. Grant me the wisdom to remain calm and composed—or perhaps just present me with a delightful breakfast pastry to keep my mouth busy.
Lord, I seek forgiveness for those drivers who inexplicably stop at a flashing yellow light, as they clearly lack basic driving skills. Please bless the construction workers I see daily, who seem to be more about pointing than actually progressing. Grant them efficiency and skillful hands to clear away the orange cones before I inadvertently knock them down.
As I spot what looks like a young teen behind the wheel of a massive SUV, I am reminded of my own youthful driving days. Yet, I also recall my own reckless backseat rides in a vintage station wagon sans seatbelts—certainly not the model for today’s youth. Surely, Lord, it is your will that this generation improves upon the safety and fashion blunders of the past, perhaps enforcing a driving age of 18 and requiring safety helmets until they are 21. Bonus points if those helmets also prevent them from using their phones or engaging in teenage antics.
If I find myself applying makeup in the preschool parking lot, pumping milk while driving, or shedding tears after a challenging day, shield me from the judgmental glances of others—especially truck drivers, who should really understand the struggle of living life on the go.
Ultimately, Lord, I pray for a safe return home at the end of the day, with my children in tow and minimal requests for fast food ringing in my ears, as a juicy burger sounds enticing right now.
And when the kids are finally asleep and I look at my husband and ponder, “Maybe we should have another child,” remind me of the time my son swung a sippy cup at my head during rush hour while his little sister cheered him on. Remind me that goldfish don’t mess up my carpet or wake me at 3:00 a.m. demanding food, and in this light, wouldn’t I prefer a fish? However, just to clarify, Lord, I’d take cleaning up goldfish crumbs over car seat disasters any day, at any hour. Amen.
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Summary
This piece humorously captures the daily struggles and prayers of a working mother during her commute. It reflects on the chaos of parenting, the challenges faced on the road, and the desire for patience and understanding amid the hustle and bustle of life.