The Road of Life Stopped at a Traffic Light

When was the last time you stopped at a traffic light,

one hand on the steering wheel and an elbow propped on the windowpane,

heart at rest and mind at peace as you listen to the music flowing from the radio

and you stare and stare and stare at that one circle of light that controls your life.

When was the last time you stopped at a traffic light,

Choosing to not say choice words and choosing to not let

Anger and frustration and impatience run over you.

Over the course of our lives we spend many minutes—hours, days when added up—

Sitting at a light, or in a line at a light. Sometimes, we frequent the same traffic light

On our way to work, or home, or the grocery store. And when we do stop at these familiar

sights—mini-homes along the road—we tend to come and go on different sides.

On the way to work, you come from the south and turn left. On the way home,

You come from the west and turn right. You know that the light on your way to work

Is shorter than the light on the way home, because your route on the way home is one

With generally more traffic—more cars driven by more people going . . . going . . .

. . . going home.

Yet you still get frustrated when you have to sit at that light on the way to work. Angry, because

You’re running late. Frustrated, because the inanimate light should know that you need to go. Impatient, because it’s your turn. The cars on the perpendicular street have been flying past

For way too long now. They need a red light. You need a green light.

Your heart races and your face flushes and your hands shake on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white—yet the light is red. It’s saying you need to stop. To take a deep breath. To look around you at the point where you are at in your route, to look at the scenery and at the people in the cars flying past you and sitting behind you or next to you—to enjoy the stage in life you are in.

And there are those times when you sit in a long line at a traffic light. You can see the red dot ahead, and you judge that you can make it if the cars in front of you go fast enough. The light turns green, and you’re stopped. You yell out to no one in particular—maybe except the car in front of you—that “GREEN MEANS GO!” But no one hears. Maybe the light does.

You gaze upon that green light, wanting, yearning to be there. To be flying underneath

That green. Yet you’re stopped, because the cars in front of you are too slow. You might

As well be at a red light. And then you cry out to the air—or to God—agonizing that the cars in front of you get to go their turn, but you’re still stuck where you are, even though you see nothing but green. You keep staring . . . crying . . . agonizing . . .

. . . pleading that the light will turn green.

Maybe it’s not your time to move on.

Eventually you move up, but it’s not enough. You still have to sit at this traffic light, waiting, hoping that the light will change. That things will change. But you can do nothing but sit and wait, as the road of life has you stopped at a traffic light. The only thing that you control is how you will react, how you will enjoy or hate the moment you are in right now.

Red will turn to green. Green to yellow. Yellow to red. Red to green.

Life goes on.

The road goes on.

Just turn up the music and hope that the light will change soon.