The Kingdom of God is like Mama’s Minivan

Today I get to bring you the word of Idelette MicVicker. Y’all when I say she is the REAL DEAL, I mean she is the real deal. When she says she wants a sisterhood, she means that. When she says everyone is in, she means that. When she says she wants to live in a better world she means that. Then she works her butt off to make it happen and get it done, and the most amazing thing is she does it humbly and totally self aware. I LOVE SheLoves magazine, a space she has created that is just beautiful, and I love that it totally reflects her amazing heart. I love this particular piece because I resonate so deeply with it, and because I think you will too.

The Kingdom of God is like a Driver

By Idelette McVicker

We need dreamers and we need drivers.

These days, I do a bit more driving than dreaming.

I get to sit behind the wheel of our sexy silver minivan for several hours a day, several days a week, driving kids and friends and students to where they want and need to go.

I pick up our student from her hip-hop class. I drive Gabi to her basketball practice. Telah gets a ride to soccer practices and Shay and I drive to hockey on Sundays where I get to lace up skates and sit on a cold bench for an hour.

We have three kids, one international student and a full life. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We sit down for meals at a real table mostly every night. But we also drive a lot.

As a family, we have officially entered what is known as The Driving Season. My kids are old enough, so they participate in sports, but not quite old enough to get there on their own, so I get to drive them where they need to be.

At first, I resisted this new season, wanting to guard our home time like a dragon Mama. And then, one Tuesday morning, I drove a young friend to her new residential treatment program. She was excited, but mostly nervous to start the program. A dear friend who had also gone through the program was sitting next to me in the passenger seat, helping to talk her through her fears.

Suddenly, around 9am on an ordinary Tuesday, we entered into holy time.

Sitting in that minivan, I realized driving this one girl to this appointment and the start of a new season in her life, was the most important thing I could do in that moment. On many days, driving may seem mundane and without much purpose, but on that day the Kingdom of God broke through somewhere between the steering wheel and my bum on the driver’s seat.

I was participating in the work of Freedom. I was participating in the work of Purpose. I, too, was participating in the work of Restoration.

I may not be the one doing the work, getting the healing, being restored, but my participation in her story, is glorious in the Kingdom of God.

This kind of invisible service? Jesus sees it.

A few days earlier, I drove a friend to a meeting with a brother she hadn’t seen in eight years. This meeting was her attempt to connect, cross a dilapidated bridge and restore a relationship.

I got to be the driver.

We drove 502 kilometers on that day, so she could go see her brother. I was on the sidelines all day. I was not the main player in the story. But I got to watch the rekindling of an important relationship.

That’s when I knew: These wheels turn for reconciliation and restoration. These tires burn for healthy hearts and strong souls. This body will sit and stay and carry the ones who need to walk into the future.

My life cannot be about my own life alone.

Driving is investing straight into the future.

Driving is saying, “You’re welcome!” to the generations to come.

Driving is laying down our own lives on behalf of others.

It’s not martyrdom. It’s not the only thing. Seen through the right eyes, driving others to their future is a beautiful participation in the Kingdom of God.

These are not about my dreams. These are about my kids’ dreams for the future, my friend’s desire for family, a young girl’s hope for freedom.

I am reminded of the story of the friends who carried their friend on a mat towards Jesus. They lowered him from the roof and basically insisted on his healing. Their commitment and tenacity became part of his freedom story.

I like that idea of insistence. Showing up for driver’s duty can become like a prayer—an insistence— cutting away brush and making Way for another’s future.

There was a season in life when everything revolved around me. It was all about my dreams, my hopes, my vision of the future. It was all about what I wanted for dinner, where I wanted to go, what I wanted to choose.

I still carry my preferences and hopes and dreams in this body and heart. But I can see now how the Kingdom of God is like pulling up the minivan and throwing open the doors and filling up the seats, so we may travel together to something greater than our own one life. We get to multiply. We get to carry the ones who come along into the future they hope for. We get to love others, the way we would like to be loved.

Driving is tiring. Sometimes it feels like there’s no accomplishment.

Driving Gabi to her basketball game isn’t nearly as fulfilling as being the one out on the court, making a good play, scoring a basket. The glory lies only in the other.

But I see how this is also good. This sitting on the sidelines and investing into the future of another, is also beautiful.

I am deeply moved when someone listens to my dreams and helps take me where I want to go. I imagine I am not the only one.

Sometimes the work of dreaming and hoping and building a good life is hard and the journey is long. What a gift, then, when a friend jumps into the driver’s seat and says, You want to go there? Come. I’ll take you.

That dream in your heart? Let me take you.

That future you hope for? I’ll go with you.

We need dreamers and drivers.

Dreamers can imagine beautiful new futures and lead the way. Drivers are the ones who say, I see that too. Let’s go. I’ll drive.

_____________

About Idelette:

I was born and raised in South Africa during Apartheid. That story has forever shaped my life and how I experience the world. I’ve lived on three continents and I like to imagine myself now as a global citizen.  Sixteen years ago, I married a cheeky Canadian and moved to Vancouver. We have three children (11, 10 and 8) and SheLovesmagazine.com is my fourth baby.

I bake bread, wear mostly black and love big shoes. I am a charismatic contemplative and my happy place is both around a big noisy table and alone by the ocean. I love Jesus, justice and living juicy.

This Chinese proverb shakes me in my soul: When sleeping women wake, mountains move.

Twitter: @idelette

Instagram: @idelettemcvicker

Facebook: Idelette

Website: SheLovesmagazine.com

Blog: Idelette.com

Idelette headshots 16

Advertisements

9 thoughts on “The Kingdom of God is like Mama’s Minivan

  1. Pingback: » The Kingdom of God is like Mama’s Minivan

  2. This is why I love you, Idelette. You have such a capacity for the ‘other’. Your heart give strength to other hearts, and you have such a big picture viewpoint that it doesn’t have to be about you; it’s about the Kingdom. I love this post …

  3. I love you, I love you, I love you and you big, generous, ever-present heart, There is such beauty in this story – layers of richness in ‘going together’ to get to the place that a dream of the future holds – together. Thank you for being that for me and so many others. xoxo

  4. Love this article! I’m continually amazed that all these seemingly small mundane parts of our busy lives, really truly are the mustard seeds that hold life changing truths that shape the very fabric of our being! Finding my “mustard seeds” every day, whether intentional or stumbled upon, is part of this priceless treasure hunt of digging deeper, staying longer, and laying bare who I am for renewal and refreshing.

  5. Pingback: Modern Parables: The Kingdom of God is like the Toys at the Pool | Accidental Devotional

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s