At a time when most guys my age are thinking about retirement, I’m driving for Uber over 50 hours a week. I’ve always wanted to work in a career, or career path that had meaning and purpose, which over the years has lead me to make some impetuous career choices. I’ve learned a thin line separates self confidence and foolishness, and I can be foolishly over-confident. So as I’m entering the final third of my life’s journey, financial security isn’t really part of my resume.
Driving for Uber is beginning to change that. God is good and always provides what we need, but as far as being connected to something bigger than myself, I can’t say Uber satisfies that longing. Yet I look for what I call divine appointments during my trips through the night.
I am serving people, which I enjoy. I provide what I believe is an important service to those who have had too much to drink at the end of a night. No one has to make the decision and risk driving drunk when they can pick up their phone and call an Uber. I am thankful I can provide safe passage home.
At the same time, driving a rideshare car I feel disconnected from community, and the fellowship I’ve come to appreciate. I have time off each day, so I can see friends and work on my writing, but having a lunch or coffee is different from engaging and intentionally living life as a vital member of writing community. I miss it. I can’t blame anyone but me for why I’m in this place. I’ve been avoiding God’s attempts to dig out some painful emotional baggage I’ve been carrying for a long time. Finally He let my choices back me into a corner so the surgery could begin. And now it’s taking longer to get back to my tribe of writers and good friends than I expected.
On nights when I’m forlorn, feeling like Eeyore in a wind storm watching his tail blow down the path, God often sends a rider to cheer me up. The bible says that we sometimes entertain angels unaware, so one or two of them could have been supernatural guests in my back seat. Either way, I am grateful for the riders with whom I get to talk about writing, and my writing path.
I started writing 15 years ago, and have had two steps forward, one step back progress. I’ve published a book, contributed to others, built a writing community and taught writers across the country. At the same time, I’ve quietly struggled with, wondered if I could really do this thing called writing. Trying to pursue personal and creative passion while struggling under a broken self-esteem is like carrying around a sack of cats. I spend a lot of emotional energy keeping those cats from clawing their way out of the bag.
“God, thank You for encouraging me. Thank You for sending people with whom I can discuss writing and the meaningfulness of chasing dreams. I am a writer, a creative, driving Uber to make room in my life to pursue my calling. Help me throw this sack of cats in the river the next time I get a chance.”