I'm not speeding...I'm qualifying.

For Meggan because she is the very best kind of best friend...

My mother taught me to be a defensive driver. My father taught me the best defense was being an offensive driver. My son always reminds me that I do not own the road to which I reply, "Babe, I own the lane I am in".

When my children were young, I used to sing them a song while weaving in and out of traffic about how I wanted to be a race car driver. I believe it is my right as an American and Texan to go 3-4 miles over the speed limit everywhere I go that isn't a school zone. I will gladly pay to take the toll around Austin to be able to legally drive 80mph, especially when the sun is out and the top is off my Jeep.

I often speak to the people driving with me on the road. Meggan and my son would say I have a bit of road rage but it's not like I am going to shoot anyone anything other than the finger. I am not shy about calling out the idiots on the road. Why people stop at yield or slow down to get on the highway is a true mystery to me. I am of the mindset that if you are not actively passing someone then you shouldn't hang out in the left lane. In fact, I have said I will know I am in hell if I am in the fast lane perpetually being forced 20 miles per hour under the speed limit for eternity. I love that I live in a state that has road signs that say: Don't Slow Texas Down. Behind the wheel, my given competitive nature still comes out and in full force. But in my daily life, it has been tempered by my experiences and hopefully, the Holy Spirit.

I joke that when I climb behind the wheel, that's the only time I lose my Jesus but in reality, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Romans 8:38 speaks to this truth. Metaphorically speaking... I have made right hand turns, causing unnecessary accidents when I was running a race around an oval track. I have tried to go continually straight on a road course. I have driven a open wheeled car at a NASCAR event and I have tried to race a dragster while riding a motorcycle. I have, and many times purposely, went the opposite direction of not only the crowd but God and yet nothing I have done has ever been able to separate me from His love.

I have laid upon the abortion table. I have screamed and cussed at Him that He hates me. I am a child of the '80's and lived the whole: sex, drugs and rock-n-roll thing. I built a wall around myself in the form of 150lbs of extra weight. I have listened to the lies of a thing sent to kill and destroy me over believing the truth of the One who created me. I have taken Him for granted and not understood His love or given it away as I should. I mean to tell you... I have not been idle in trying to prove He doesn't love me and yet, have been completely unsuccessful in separating myself from it.

He chases me with the beauty of creation and the wonder of the cosmos. He sings to me through the voice of Walt Wilkins or Aaron Watson or my Pastor's daughter, Susie on Sunday morning. He writes to me not just through the Bible but the words of Donald Miller, Bob Goff, Christine Caine and Jennie Allen, just to name of few. He fist bumps and hugs me at the end of a long week via the hands and arms of the biker ministry that makes up the family of my home: my church. He tells me I am good using the mouth of a man who twists any negative thing that might fall out of my mouth upon his ear into something positive. He reminds me I am worthy of love through the quality time and always perfectly chosen gifts that my sweet friends, Meggan and Jeff bestow me (including a pair of bad ass socks quoted above: I'm not speeding, I'm qualifying). He tells me repeatedly that I am valuable just a He created me to be through the men at my church who are the husbands of the women I respect, love and adore; women who are strong, loud, capable and independent. He has called me beautiful and though I have fought hard not to receive it, He tracks me down through waitresses, friends and total strangers alike until I HAVE to listen, have to believe.

He doesn't see what we see when we look into the mirror or our hearts because His grace is sufficient to cover all our sin, all our mistakes, all our heartache and the whole of our past. He sees you: the you He created in all it's perfection. He knows, as only a father can, all that you are and all you will be and He sees good. He does the same for me ... especially now: as I, finally submitted, am becoming a product of my Father's love.