About twenty minutes later, I drove into a fierce rainstorm. It didn't sprinkle--it pounded. A deluge. I turned my wipers on high, slowed down, and kept going.
About ten minutes after that, I realized I was still wearing my sunglasses. In the changed circumstances of my drive, they were totally unnecessary, somewhat ridiculous, and even counterproductive since they reduced visibility.
I removed them and felt a bit foolish. I'd needed them earlier, put them on, and then grown accustomed to them. So accustomed that I kept them on even when my circumstances had changed to the point that they were no longer necessary or even useful.
The application to my life seemed obvious. I realized yesterday how easy it is to continue on, with very little self-awareness, doing things that may seem ridiculous to others. Things I did for a good reason, which may not be so necessary now. Habits, practices, and actions I cling to that perhaps I need to outgrow.
This isn't terribly wise or profound, but it gave me some good food for thought.
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Braden Bell is a husband, father, teacher, director and author. His newest book, The Kindling was released in July. He blogs about all of the above at www.bradenbell.com
