I set the alarm for 4:30 and we were on the road by 5:12. We had a full day of driving ahead of us and I wanted to get to where we were going.

I always want to get to where we are going.

There are many rules for driving (and living), but the one running through my mind today is: pay attention. 

We drove north out of Nashville in the dark and the light found us in Kentucky. The sunrise broke through the fog as it rested just above the dewey fields. Thomas Kinkaid would have loved this scene. One of the things I love about the fog is how the light always seems to cut through it the way hope does heartbreak. I wanted to take a photo, but knew my wife would give me a look that said, “That’s not very safe.”

She’s right.

It’s not. 

Fog always makes me think of my mom. 

Growing up we invented a game called Fog.

It’s a very complicated game.

Here is how it works:

When fog is in sight the first person to yell “fog!” wins.

Like I said, very complicated.

It’s a game that requires you to pay attention.

And I was paying attention.

I waited until 11:01 before opening the pack of sour gummy worms. It was begging to be opened and I obliged. Plus, I was feeling groggy. I would not recommend pairing sour gummy worms with lukewarm coffee, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get to where you’re going.

And we were getting to where we were going.

We crossed over the Ohio River and entered Indiana. A few miles into the state I saw a man waving the American flag over the interstate. He swung it left to right with great enthusiasm and reverence. I checked the news to see if something terrible had happened to our country. None reported. I guess this was just another Monday in Indiana.

Just as we were entering Michigan I saw an elderly man cutting his grass without a shirt on. He rode on the lawn mower as he basked under the sun. From a distance, he looked content and confident. I’ve never had my shirt off and been content and confident. Maybe that comes when you’re older and cruising on a riding lawn mower.

We were 8 hours into the drive when another wave of sleepiness fell over me. My eyes glazed over as the sugar from the sour gummy worms and caffeine from the coffee wore off. I was crashing hard. We pulled into a Chick-fil-A to re-energize. Man cannot live on sour gummy worms and lukewarm coffee alone.

We went inside to use the restroom and stretch our legs. My body was doing that thing where it felt like it was moving even though I was standing still. Long car rides will do this to you. Behind the counter were two Chick-fil-A employees taking orders.

On the right was a young lady who spoke softly and nodded with kindness and didn’t seem to be taking herself too seriously. Like me, she looked tired and ready to be home. She matched my vibe. She was who I wanted to take my order.

The other worker did not match my vibe.

He took orders with flair, similar to the way a magician does a trick. He talked loud, smiled big, gestured with his hands, and asked every customer a minimum of 5 questions. He was curious and full of life and acted as if he had just had a handful of sour gummy worms and a cup of coffee. When you thanked him, he didn’t just say the Chick-fil-A catchphrase once, but he said it twice.

“My pleasure! My pleasure!”

If there was an award for Friendliest Chick-fil-A Worker, he would be a nominee. But it was too much for two o’clock in the afternoon. He did his job with a joy that was unbearable. Joy can be contagious. His was not. Not for me. Not right now. It was too much. You know what I’m talking about. 

And since I have already revealed the ugliness of my sinful nature I’ll go ahead and tell you that there was no way I was going to be able to make it through a conversation with the young man.

It would not have been my pleasure.

I hated the way I was thinking and tried to loosen up, but I was in a fog.

Road trips like this are good at draining me of patience. And a person with limited patience is an unpleasant thing. For the last 8 hours I had been looking forward with my hands gripped tight around the steering wheel. Paying attention is exhausting work. The hundreds of miles somehow turned me into a shell of myself.

I was far from my best.

“Loosen up, man.” I told myself as I watched the employee unnecessarily twirl to hand a customer their order.

I stood in line and prayed to God that my order would be taken by the soft-spoken employee. 

I hate when I get like this.

Impatient and annoyed and unfriendly.

I wanted to be able to match the friendly Chick-fil-A workers attitude, but I couldn’t get close.

The joyful worker is wearing a W.W.J.D. bracelet.

What would Jesus do?

I think He would read the room.

I try to snap myself out of it, but I can’t.

“Come on, loosen up!” I thought to myself once more.

Nope.

Still in the fog.

God answered my prayer in record time and the young lady took my order.

We got back on the road and did what we had done for the last 500 miles: sit and listen and talk and move forward and pay attention.

I still felt bad for how I was thinking in Chick-fil-A, but the taste of fried chicken and Chick-fil-A sauce was changing my mood.

I guess I was hangry.

After a few more hours we got to where we were going.

There is nothing like getting to where you are going.

And tomorrow when I wake up I’ll tell myself to once again pay attention.

And loosen up.

About the Author

Tanner Olson is an author, poet, speaker, and podcaster living in Nashville, Tennessee.

He is the author of I’m All Over the Place, As You Go, Walk A Little Slower, and Continue: Poems and Prayers of Hope.

You can find Tanner Olson’s books on Amazon.

His podcast is The Walk A Little Slower Podcast with Tanner Olson and can be found wherever you listen to podcasts.

Tanner Olson travels around the country sharing poetry, telling stories, and delivering messages of hope.

You can follow Tanner Olson on Instagram (@writtentospeak) and Facebook where you’ll daily find encouraging words of faith and hope.