I don’t know why I do it…but I do. Every time. I always have. And I passed it on to my daughter.
On Friday, I had to rescue my college co-ed from a car dilemma. Riding shot gun, I felt the mounds of crud under my feet: orchestra programs, umbrellas, empty coffee cups, napkins, returned assignments, among other things. It immediately hit me. She is her mama’s daughter.
Now I will say, my car isn’t nearly this junky. There is room in the front seat of my Honda for someone’s feet and purse. But when I thought about it a little longer, I realized that the messy car was a symptom of a character flaw that I DID pass down to her- overcommitment. Through the wonderfully “full” of our lives, ever since I can remember, I have prioritized everything and anything over keeping my car clean. And we all know how it goes…at first, I vow that not a bite of food or drop of drink will be consumed in this newly-sanitized car. But, wait…we’re late for ballet class. Abby REALLY needs to eat something before she begins her evening of endless exercise. Plop goes a bun bit between the seats. Then I sleep in that extra 20 minutes to make up for watching too much Hamilton on Youtube. That Egg White Delight was delicious; let me just stuff this receipt in this little something holder until I get to school. Then it’s the workout bag and school butcher paper; straws and Cane’s prize tickets; stray socks and church bulletins. Before I know it, these are remnants of my life, representing everything that is more important than order-little fossils bearing clues to who I am.
Hopefully, when Judgment Day arrives, my life’s worth will not be determined by the cleanliness of my car but what the good stuff inside it represents.