Full and Complete Stop

It's not always glamourous to learn life lessons, much less to have an audience during the process. It's especially humbling when you put your audience in grave physical danger in the course of your education – and then report on it in a public forum.

Wednesdays after school in our house are a little bit crazy. As soon as the kids get home, they have to grab a snack and head to piano lessons. It would be less crazy if they didn't come home and grab a snack and just went directly to piano lessons, but then we'd get to piano too early and the kids would be hungry and grumpy by the time we were through with piano and home for supper.

This particular Wednesday also involved Christmas play practice at church for the kids, conveniently located in the next town over, same as piano lessons. Except I momentarily forgot about it and then ended up hustling the kids out the door in a frenzy to get to piano and play practice.

We have to cross the railroad tracks between our house and the highway. This we do multiple times a week. Our rural railroad crossing even has a stop sign, installed several years ago after the number of fatalities involving trains became too much of a pattern.

I (almost) always stop at the stop sign. And I always look both ways for the train. Around the same time they installed the stop sign, they also cut down a section of our neighbour's bush to assist me in that activity.

So, here's the thing: we were in a rush, I had some ice inconveniently located on my windshield, and while I have winter tires on my vehicle, the road right in front of the train tracks is always slipperier than the rest of the road because it's sheltered.

I came up to the train tracks, slowing down with the intention to stop – and roll on through immediately. There's not usually a train there. And I didn't take as much time to check as I should have and there was that ice in the way, so when I did look and see that there was indeed a train coming, I hit the brakes. But with the slippery road, I realized the nose of my vehicle would be only feet away from the train by the time I finally stopped. So I headed off the road, towards the ditch trusting the increased friction to stop the vehicle sooner or at least give us more time with travelling a slightly different angle. Our chances of survival tipping in the ditch were greater than getting acquainted with the wheels of the train. All this very rationally thought out in milliseconds while the conductor leaned on the horn and then glared at me panting, eyes bulging, in our weird angle off the road.

It was a long train, two or three minutes to pass. Long enough to do some serious pondering and give my oldest son a mild sense of vertigo, he being closest to the ditch and most aware of the tilt of the van.

I was deeply grateful we were all alive, safe and sound, no tipping or crashing today.

On the way home, I came to a full and complete stop – with the intention to stop – before proceeding over the tracks. Of course, I did my motherly duty and admonished my kids (none of whom are of driving age) to remember this and always stop at stop signs, especially this one. They say, as you know, that accidents are most likely to occur within three miles of one's home.

Thanks for the demonstration, Mom.

But it got me thinking about stopping and waiting in other parts of life. Sometimes we come across other signs in our lives that tell us we need to stop. Maybe our bodies give us signs – shin splits telling us to stop running on concrete (or so I've heard!), or pressure in the chest telling us to ease up on the stress. Maybe people in our lives let us know we need to stop some destructive behaviour. Sometimes we ignore the signs or stop with the intention to keep right on going and we either meet with disaster, or perhaps, if we're lucky, only a brush with disaster – this time.

I wonder if that's what the season of Advent is for. A sign for us to stop and wait and ponder the import of the coming event – Christmas, the introduction to the Savior of the world. We're tempted to rush on through – we have places to go, things to do, people to see – on a collision course with burn out, or perhaps worse, indifference.

Perhaps Advent is the time to reassess our needs, our “driving” skills and habits, time to take a refresher course in being aware and mindful of how God works in the world and in our lives. And why.

Could you imagine? The four weeks before Christmas being a time to come to a full and complete stop spiritually, a time to wait patiently yet eagerly for the gift of life and love you are deeply grateful for?

For God so loved the world

that He gave his one and only son

that whoever believes in him

will not perish

but have eternal life.

John 3:16