Slow To Yell

Rural roads with signs warning of cattle crossing is where I found myself Sunday while driving home from another basketball tournament.  Firstborn programmed the GPS and instead of the main highway, we were on country roads. I was furious because I was past tired.  Hubby wasn’t with us this time, so I was forced to pay attention to directions.  I asked Firstborn if he did everything correctly and of course he said he did, but this was supposedly a quicker route. Excuse me? I was fuming. No, I was pissed.  I felt like crying each time the agitating GPS voice told me to turn left or right onto some unknown back road.  I wanted to fuss and yell at Firstborn, but he already endured this during the tournament, so I granted him mercy.  I was so tired, I couldn’t think straight to pray.  The only scripture that came to mind was the one I didn’t want to remember - be slow to anger. Sigh….
I finally reached a place, mentally, to think reasonably and pray, but looked at the gas tank showing less than a quarter tank. No gas stations were on any of these roads, but we did see two donkeys and a deer.  I felt anger stirring again, but this time I prayed for peace. I knew Firstborn was only trying to get us home quicker and my yelling would only make him feel worse. My peace didn’t come immediately, but focusing on God and trusting Him to save me from the back roads and my anger invited peace. Anger is a monster waiting to be awakened by a simple word, action, or thought. I knew my anger wouldn’t help the situation, so I shut up and continued following the agitating GPS voice. An hour later, we met the highway and a gas station.  Firstborn sighed with relief and went to sleep without being yelled at.
Did the rural route save time? No, but I learned that anger gives absolutely no direction!