Yellow Lights

I’ve been running yellow lights. Too many of them. I’m reminded of the Family Circus cartoon caption: Mommy, when does a yellow light mean to slow down, and when does it mean to speed up? Good question.

I answered the question recently. I decided a yellow light shouts caution. Slow down! And maybe even stop. With God as my witness, I determined to slow and brake for yellow lights.

An immediate test ensued. A yellow light cautioned me. I accelerated, offered God a quick apology, watched two others in my rearview mirror barrel through the intersection after me, and then judged them for running a red.

The next intersection: Another caution. I blew it again. This was going to take awhile.

At one point I compromised. I lifted my foot off the accelerator . . . and coasted through. Two others followed my lead. Another quick apology.

Another chance. I slowed and tapped the brakes, well aware that the woman on my bumper had every intention of making that light. Too risky, I decided. I hit the gas as I apologized to my Witness, who continued to give back-to-back opportunities.

Sorry, Lord.
Have mercy on me.
Next time I’ll do better.

Again, a yellow cautioned at a notoriously long light. I was late for an appointment. Decision: With full knowledge, no excuse, and no apology, I drove through.

Only to pass a cop on the other side of the intersection. What an easy ticket!

But she did not pursue.
Instead, I received mercy.
Another chance.
Another caution.

An expanding definition of grace.