Having worked at many jobs over the years, in all of them I drove to work,
as did the rest of the employees. And although growing up in a bedroom community
of New York City, where many dads commuted on the train, I worked local and
drove. At my first real job other than summer employment, I worked at Sears, at
night and weekends, and started right after the day crew got off. We were
supposed to park across the street in a huge lot, but some of us fudged, and
would park as close as the entrance would allow. Which generally cheesed off
the loyal ones who followed the rules, especially when it was cold or raining or
both. It seemed that those of us who were into our cars broke the rules, and
rather risk a door ding from some errant shopper than theft from some junkie.
There was no preferred parking, even the managers parked across the street, it
was only those of us who dared break the rules that had the preferred parking.
Despite the many memos, notes on the bulletin board before email, verbal
warnings, and every one knowing our cars, we did it for many years, with no
repercussions. Rebels without a cause, unless you count parking where we wanted
to.
Working at Polychrome, the upper management and engineers had assigned
parking. Laid out in front of the building, many regular spots in the lot were
actually closer and better. You had to parallel park in the assigned spots-even
40 years ago an unappreciated skill. We would take the spots closest to the
entrance for our bikes, and it seems the only ones who cared were when a wife
would come to switch cars with her husband, and could only identify them by the
assigned spot. And then over the intercom for all to hear “would the only of
the black motorcycle please remove it from Mr. Levy’s parking place.” Why not
mention my name, who else rode a black motorcycle , or any bike other than a few
of us? It was an early experience of motorcycle riders getting preferred
parking. Which today is common, as most places have motorcycle only parking,
and it is usually up front. Where we struggle to fit out expensive rides in the
slot sized for a Schwinn. But most of us have consideration for our other
riders, if only those who drive could do the same.
But with assigned spaces we learned Walter drove a yellow Firebird. Bill
drove a big Chevy, Kurt an old VW, and Ian a new Honda Civic. We learned to
identify our co-workers by cars, thanks to their parking places. And many times
the car would not have matched the person. Matching owners with their cars
often left us in suspense, and even today approaching a car with some license
plate like Foxy or Cutie, or some other name, I find many times an unattractive
woman behind the wheel. Wishful thinking, not the plate that matches the
driver. How many times have you been burned by that? Or by Harvey the Geek
driving a cool GTO? Or a boss in a gray flannel suit driving an MG? Too many
times the cars don’t meet the owners standards as we know them, how could
somebody so cool drive a Hyundai? Or so mundane ride a motorcycle? Thanks to
preferred parking, we found out. Maybe a side effect to us, as we were only
looking for the best place to park.
Some day psychologists will come up with a name for it, those who will sit
waiting for a parking spot at Costco to open up, when the could have parked and
been in the store already if they parked two spaces down. I don’t get it.
Maybe just a variation of my Sears days, looking for the best spot. No assigned
parking there, unless you are handicapped. No motorcycle parking there either.
So we make our own. Go figure that one, I just want to get in and out-safely,
not held up in traffic by someone blocking the aisles waiting.
It seems we all have our own place we prefer to park. Like in church where
we sit. More than once I have arrived early and sat in someone else’s regular
seat. And been told “you’re in my seat, please move.” Hey man, this is church,
I thought. And many times an esteemed elder has been brought in to intervene.
I don’t move...if you want your seat, get here early like I did. Grow up. Show
some courtesy. I even parked in an empty spot once, only to be threatened by an
usher to be towed, it was the pastor’s parking spot. Welcome to church, huh?
By the way, I didn’t move, they finally relented when I told them I would make a
scene, you explain why I was towed, a visitor to your church? We never went
back to this friendly church. Jesus tells us the first shall be last. Maybe
works in parking too. Or at the grocery store after church. Such love in the
chapel, it is absent at the store. We all want what we want, now, and many
times don’t listen or obey the rules. We just want. And we realize we are
better than everyone else, that we deserve to be first, and the heck with all
others. But often first doesn’t mean preferred, remember the draft lottery for
Viet Nam? I was 364...the top 30 got drafted. Sometimes in our hurrying we
miss blessings, like when in line for $19 rooms at Circus Circus. 400 people
ahead of us, when the lady announced “no more $19 rooms.” The place emptied
out, we were left first in line. “But we do have $29 suites...” and how sweet
it was. God has blessings for you no matter where you are, he hasn’t forgotten
about you. We find Jesus never hurried, yet he was never late. Always on time,
just ask Lazarus. And the lesson he taught to his sisters. They complained he
was late....little did they know. For 40 years in the desert, the Jews, their
shoes never wore out, food was delivered on time, and clouds shielded them
daily. No matter where they were in the pack. And yet we find Judas at the
right hand of Jesus at the last supper. The preferred seat for the one who
would betray him. Calling him friend, a reminder of Jesus sitting at the right
hand of God in heaven-the preferred seat. Jesus knows right where you are, do
you?
Are you stuck in traffic waiting for a better parking space? Have you
parked in a designated spot, illegally? Are you more concerned about showing
off your car? Would you risk being towed just to do it? God has no favorites,
he has no priorities except for his son. He gets the best place, as he deserves
it. Where he is in your life will show in your decisions. You already have an
assigned place in eternity, does that mean you need one down here?
And then there is valet parking, thankfully never for motorcycles. I like
that, but really I rather park myself. Let me make the decision where I park.
Just like I did with Jesus. My choice, not someone else’s. Not a set of rules
or religion, but a choice, the only way to know God. Are you still fighting
over a parking space when you can be assured heaven? Cruising for a better
deal? Or maybe stuck in an assigned space called religion, and you want out.
But don’t want to give up your space. Turn to Jesus, let him guide you. And
when trust and concern for others stem from knowing him, you give up better
spots. And suddenly better ones open up for you. God does that, he loves to
bless. And in the example shows us to bless others. That space you are
fighting for might just be in the path of an errant cart. God knows. Or the
one who had an assigned seat in church may need it. Give it to them, how
humbling. Show them what God has taught you, a lesson with an example. Pay the
toll for the next car in back of you. Let someone else in front of you with a
smaller order. Let them have the preferred parking, for it is not always what
you think. If you could ask Judas, he would know. And if you want Jesus’ spot,
be ready to go to the cross. Hmm.....maybe that spot in the corner is better.
So let Jesus lead, you follow. Show concern, compassion, and grace. The first
will not always be first, remember that when parking at the stadium. Maybe the
last spot is the best way to get out first. Walking to your car, and leaving,
while all others wait in line to exit. Preferred parking awaits all of us in
heaven. Lazarus had a much different perspective on waiting then did Martha and
Mary. Jesus is patient that none should be lost. He is always on
time.....what’s your excuse?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com