Gas Station Dates

Until now, I’ve written mostly about places and stories where I’ve been drawn out of my comfort zone (a retirement home, my senior year of high school, even at the feet of Christ) in great part because those are the situations where I’ve felt most acutely that I am an introvert. 

They are indeed part of the picture — much of following Christ is about laying down our lives and learning to walk in obedience to His commands — but if I were describing this landscape to extroverts, or to introverts who feel less then comfortable in their own skin, I’d want them to know that it’s beautiful here, too. That loving and being loved by God have brought me into times of closeness with Him that I never imagined could exist.

So this week: a tender defense of introversion, by way of some favorite memories of and places visited with God.


Motherhood has brought me into some unexpected sites of conversation with Him.

I think of a certain spot where I usually stand at the kitchen counter and the carpet I’ve tread for years while singing lullabies. 

With deepest admiration, I remember Susanna Wesley, mother of John and Charles and eight other living children besides, who found a place to pray in a bustling household by throwing her apron over her head.

And then my mind turns to nighttime trips to the gas station. I’ve made quite a few in recent years, mostly on days when we ran out of something at home and it was too cold or taxing to carry a small baby to the grocery store. Once, when my mom was visiting and I couldn’t venture too far from an infant on a three-hour feeding schedule, Y and I went on a date to that familiar convenience store, strolling the aisles between snack cereal boxes and travel size Advil as we held hands.

But there’s something about a driver’s seat and a velvety night sky that’s made for many a prayer, and for space to listen. When the children are grown and all these gallons of milk are an emblem of the past, I’ll remember how He met me there.

Went out to get milk from the gas station tonight. I have an inkling now that He was calling me out, an irresistible invitation. So I went; Y had left a Hillsong United album on in the car, and as I listened I heard Him call me back to the fervor of my first love for Him, hearkening back to my heart of ten years ago… totally abandoned and wanting to surrender. I got the milk and juice, and came back, and sang; sat in the cold car in the driveway listening and singing and wanting nothing more than that the Lord should know that I love Him, and this unquenchable longing to give Him something excellent, something beautiful. Not much else to add; I prayed for my children, for my husband, for my parents, for his parents… and what lingers is this stronger sense of intimacy that I haven’t had before, a sure confidence born of knowing Him: He whom I love so imperfectly, and in Whose love I am so perfectly bound.




This post is part of a 31 day series about Loving God as an Introvert

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