Motorcycle, Prayer and Hurry

I believe it is Dallas Willard who said that one of the most important disciplines a Christian needs to work on is to mercilessly remove all hurry from one's life. I had an experience that helped me remember that, as well as the importance of the prayers of all those who do remember us in prayer.
It was Josiah's birthday, with way too many things planned, and a soccer practice and game were added to the mix, which involved a 15 km ride on the motorbike. I was exiting a parking lot that we cut across, as everyone does, to get onto a main artery across the city. I was a bit distracted by a policeman beside me, and in a hurry as we were late, so after making sure I came to a full stop, I glanced to see if anyone was coming, gunned the bike, and as I was turning to the left thinking about the policeman I left behind, a flash of lime green came across my front, just clipping my front tire of the bike. My heart stopped, and I didn't have time to do anything else. The bike kept going in its line, as the touch of my front tire had been small enough that it didn't cause me to fall or swerve.
I couldn't help but think that I almost ended his life at 12 years by putting hurry before careful driving. I praised God for sparing us from anything worse, and renew my commitment to avoid hurry like a plague.

New Plaid Shorts and Dedication

I was playing soccer with the boys on Monday. I was wearing the snazzy new plaid shorts my dear wife had bought me as I had been saying I needed some more shorts with pockets so that I could keep my phone and wallet with me while coaching. A ball was passing over my head so I tried reaching it with a leg high up in the air when I heard the horrifying tearing sound of, not my thigh muscle, but my brand new shorts. The tear was long, like really long, like Mississippi River long! In fact the one leg of the shorts was just about flapping in the wind from crotch to the bottom of the shorts. Not knowing what else to do, I started to laugh in embarrassment and cover up with my hands. The boys all came running to look as good boys are wont to do. I was thinking I should get on the motorbike and go home, but the other coach laughed and said it wasn't a big deal. I had a t-shirt that was long and almost covered the underwear showing. I was still very uncomfortable and kept one hand holding my t-shirt stretched downward, until I decided to look in the storage under the bleachers for some help. A-ha, I found a sweater that had been left by a player, so I tied that around my waist, reminiscent of the breech-cloths used by certain Native American tribes, and was ready for business once again. I spent the rest of the practice (40 min) with this new fashion statement and listening to a steady stream of snickering from the boys. Surely they will respect their coaches dedication after this!