Look at
your car.
Now, I do
not know where you have been this summer, but I have a feeling I could probably
learn a good bit by looking at your car.
Sand in the foot wells is a sure sign of a trip to the beach. Lots of sand means lots of beach time….or a
lot of people who really enjoy the beach!
But what else in in there, and what does it say about how you spent your
summer?
Are there
cups from fast-food places, water bottles, extra napkins, and wadded-up empty
bags that held treats? Are there candies under the seats and down in the tracks
they slide on? Are there ribbons, barrettes,
and brushes, or other grooming aids, because you did a lot of your primping in
the car? Are there brochures from parks
or attractions, maps and guides? How
about shoes, shirts, or hats? Are those
batteries rolling around down there? How
many games and puzzles are in there?
These are all signs of a long family road trip. Is that an old french-fry I smell?
Is there
evidence of many trips to the pool, or maybe to the pick-your-own fruit
place? What’s still there from the end
of your team’s baseball season, or the last Irish dance event? Is that a program from a concert, or maybe a
Nats game? Is that the flag they handed
out at the Fourth-of-July fireworks show you went to? What about the parking stub from when you
left your car at the airport? Did you
ever finish that paperback that’s in there?
Sunscreen
and spare sunglasses, bug repellent and hand lotion, tissues new and used. The car holds so many of the supplies we need
for our adventures. Father Nick keeps
golf clubs in his, I have my hiking poles.
The car tells a lot about how we spend our time. Look at your car, and you’ll see a veritable
Smithsonian exhibit about your summer.
If that’s
what your car has accumulated,
imagine what your soul looks
like. Dirt, debris, and grit from a
carefree time when everybody just wants to relax and have fun, and duties are
postponed or ignored. Evidence of excess
or neglect can build up in your life just as much as in your car.
That’s
why I recommend a trip to the detailer.
It was always my job in my family to clean up the cars, including a good
scouring after summer vacation, inside and out.
Some years I swear I could have filled a dumpster – especially after that
big 6,000-mile trip out west in ’78. I
did the same thing with my parents’ cars as recently as three years ago! I always thought it was fun and rewarding,
but I don’t know a kid who does that anymore. Now they have professionals who can help you.
Similarly,
bring that soul in to a professional for a good detailing session. This time of transition from flip-flops
to lace-ups and sunscreen to computer screen is a perfect time to get
everything in order.
You may not think you have enough to warrant a trip now, but even if you
couldn’t fill a dumpster, you’re not going to remember in Advent what you
committed or omitted in July. Don’t tell
yourself you have too many errands to run; write grace and mercy right at the top of your list of school
supplies.
Look at
that car. Bring everyone in the family
out to the driveway to look at it and be reminded how great their summer
was. Then, pile everybody into it, and
come up here, or go to the Franciscan Monastery, or the Basilica for one last
excursion: to the confessional! Get
those souls as pristine as they were on the day of your baptism! It’s even better than that new-car
smell.
Then once
you’re home, for Pete’s sake, do something about that car.
Monsignor Smith
