Embarrassingly, in our first months of re-entry, I failed my driver's license test. Twice. My small goal of driving two miles to my 5th grade son's school felt daunting.

When I pulled into the drop-off lane, my inadequacy became evident: I couldn't open the van door to let him out. As I pushed buttons in frustration, he quietly pointed out that the sunroof had opened.

I actually did consider the possibility of having him climb out the top, but instead pulled into a parking space to regroup.

I put the van in Park, pushed buttons again, and the door opened. Just like that.

And it became clear to me.

Be still. (Put it in Park.) And know that I am God.

When I'm frazzled and still in “Drive,” I'm not thinking intelligibly. All I want is what I want. Right. Now.

How often I have had the demanding attitude of Rachel, when in her frustration over her barrenness (and her sister's fruitfulness) she exploded, “Give me children or I'll die!” (Genesis 30:1)

And also like her, when she finally held her beloved son in her arms and named him “May the Lord add to me another son.” (30:24) Not “May the Lord be praised” or “Blessed be the giver of all good things.” Her all-consuming child-bearing competition with Leah had become the focus of her life. Beat my sister. Have more sons. Give me more. Now, God.

Rachel's struggle with discontentment and entitlement and my own struggle with the van door has challenged me.

What is my attitude toward God? Do I declare Him worthy of all my praise, no matter how He answers my prayers?

Do I push buttons with rising frustration toward Him when the door won't open, or do I put it in Park and seek Him with a quieted spirit?

I desire to be more like Rachel's mother-in-law Rebekah who also struggled with infertility. But, when her long-awaited-for babies jostled within her, she sought the Lord, “Why is this happening to me?” (Genesis 25:22)

“When the door won't open” has become an invitation.

My desire is to choose prayer and not let panic win.