my dad had taught us all to drive. once i practiced driving with my mom and i think i gave her a heart attack when she screamed to brake and i didn't do anything because i forgot which pedal was which and i figured if i made the wrong choice it would make it twice as worse. so dad was the driving instructor.
as i got behind the wheel again to learn standard i just remembered wishing it was over already. wishing i just already knew and didn't have to learn. My dad took me along all the back roads where there were no cars and for the first little while i was doing ok. things were looking up and i thought that maybe i could do this in a few hours. Then i came to a stop sign on a hill. I think it took me 10 tries to actually pull out of that stop sign. 10 tries, about 20 minutes, a couple cars passing me, and a few tears. After driving a little further i just was not getting it and i pulled over, defeated. my dad didn't say anything but just waited for me to finish crying. I was embarrassed that i was so upset but i felt that i would never learn and i would just have to accept it. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle. my dad asked what i was doing. I said i can't do it and he's going to have to drive home. he gently told me that he knows that i can do it, and it's me that is going to have to take us home. i wanted to give up so bad. i was so stressed out, and just wanted to be home and not think about it. But he didn't let me give up.
I don't know if he realized how much that has impacted my life. How much my dad teaches me about my heavenly father. That neither of them give up on me, or want me to give up on myself. Both are more patient with me than i deserve. Both show me how to work hard and persevere. And that when i fall, all they want to do is pick me up in their arms and hold me.
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