My oldest daughter has had her first fender bender.

It happened the Saturday before Easter when we were struck with a craving for sushi—or seafood, if sushi is not your preferred Easter Eve fare. We had a gift certificate to Bayou Fresh Seafood in Jasper, that hidden gem of an eatery tucked into the side nook of a gas station where you can get the best sushi in northwest Alabama.

I asked my daughter if she wanted to take the wheel for the return trip. She did not hesitate; she’s been more than eager to get driving time lately—a good sign of her embracing independence, but bad for a mother’s nerves.

Side note: cheap gas + low “shelter-in-place” traffic = prime practice driving opportunities.

Side note two: she’s not the best with turns, and she’s had little experience with red lights.

Side note three: Easter Eve brought out the travelers. There were several vehicles trailing behind us as we all made our way down Airport Road.

The light was red. She stopped. Brief discussion of turning right on red. Yes, you can go. Just make sure the way is clear.

To add to the confusion, the light then turned green, but if you know this intersection, you know that Airport Road enters Highway 257, better known as Curry Highway, at an angle. The red light on Curry Highway, to the inexperienced driver, looks as if it also applies to incoming traffic from Airport Road.

Enter the Backseat Driver, daughter number two, aged eleven. Always watching. Never one to hold back speaking up or voicing her opinion.

“No, don’t go!”

Driver Daughter hit the brakes, and a split second later the car behind us made contact with our bumper.

If you’ve been rear-ended, you know the feeling. That jolt takes you by surprise nearly every time, leaving you feeling caught between “What just happened?” and “Oh crap, this isn’t supposed to be demolition derby.”

The only damage to our car was a popped-out piece of plastic that easily went back to place. The young man behind us in the car with Missouri plates was apologetic, said his wife in the backseat with their baby was hollering at him to stop.

How ironic that we both had backseat drivers. His was right, ours was wrong. We were also both in a Chevy Traverse, theirs white, ours gray. I would have shaken his hand, nice as he was, asking if we were all okay, but we aren’t supposed to do those things right now, so we said our goodbyes and parted ways.

Safely back in the car, I turned my ire to the Backseat Driver, then to the Driving Daughter, telling the first to shut up, the second to have confidence and to know the right thing to do, because there will always be voices telling you this, that, and the other.

You have to know that you know what you know, staying strong, ignoring the backseat drivers, both real and of your own mind, that will make you doubt.

I sometimes imagine Jesus riding beside me in the passenger seat as I rumble down the highway of life, but all too often I don’t listen to Him, choosing instead to listen to the voice coming from the backseat:

• “You want to watch that movie, go ahead, you’re an adult, doesn’t matter that it drops the F bomb X number of times and has some risqué scenes, you’ve heard it all and seen it all before.”
• It would be funny to say that about old so-and-so. Go ahead and share it. Doesn’t matter if it might hurt feelings. They’re not around to hear it.
• Lay up on the couch. You deserve it. You’ve worked hard. Play on your phone. It’s fine to let your kids do it too. Doesn’t matter that you haven’t read your Bible or prayed today. You’ll get to it later.

It would be far better if I pulled over and said, “Here you go, Jesus, take the keys, you can drive.” And we would swap places, Jesus and I, smile on His lips and twinkle in His eye.

He would say, “Thanks, I’ve been wanting to drive. I’ll take you places you could never imagine and better than you can go on your own, and quite honestly, your driving is pitiful. You miss turns I tell you to take and you have a bad habit of running red lights.”

Jesus never takes our keys. We have to give them up willingly, daily, denying what we think we want and giving Him the rightful place in our lives.

“Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

Matthew 16:24

My story ends with Driving Daughter getting back behind the wheel, because in this life we must physically be able to get ourselves from Point A to Point B. I’m proud of her for having the nerves to do it, despite being a little rattled, proud of myself for not jerking the keys, even though I wanted to.

Our next test is coming soon, because Driving Daughter now wants Panda Express. She says she will drive and will listen to me. As much as I would like to leave Backseat Driver at home, she will most likely get to ride along.

I pray Jesus and an angel or two are riding shotgun.