Warning Signs, Willful Denial & What Will Help Us Persist

My junior year of college, I was gifted a Ford Escort GTX.

It was a deep raspberry color with a cheeky little fin that winked at the prospect of street racing, though the car full-body shimmied at 60 mph.

I loved it on-sight. And though my automotive knowledge was shallow, I felt reassured that an owner’s manual was tucked deep in the glove compartment under a blanket of foldout maps and takeout napkins.

The dashboard contained a range of dials and lights, most of which remained thankfully dark. I most closely tracked the gas gauge and speedometer, learning with time how many blocks I could coast with the orange “low fuel” beaming back at me.

Perhaps in testing the fuel gauge warning I’d developed a dangerous assumption about the instrument panel. It wasn’t to be trusted. It was like an anxious friend, handwringing in anticipation of a crisis.

So when the temperature gauge began rising into a flaming red zone, I didn’t ask why. I didn’t pause and crack open the owner’s manual with curiosity. I reverted to a behavior I’d witnessed as a child when the t.v. picture got fuzzy.

I slapped the dashboard.  

This achieved a few things.

I took action. I felt in control. My action appeared to have impact. The needle dropped.

To my 20-something mind, the result proved the strategy was correct. And so I replicated it. For weeks.

Knowing far more about radiators and engine blocks today, I cringe with embarrassment at this logic. But sometimes the most powerful lessons come from ignoring earlier, gentler signs.

---

What gentle signs have you ignored?

---

The lesson was delivered at dusk on a stretch of highway buffeted by cornfields. Having ventured to the “big” city, I was heading home with a collection of faded books carefully stacked across the backseat.  

We were approaching a mild hill when the temperature gauge swung higher.

I slapped the dashboard.

The needle wobbled in a promising way and then sprang back into the danger zone. I tried it again. The needle was insistent.

One more time. It rose again. We were only two miles from the exit.

I said a silent prayer and tried a different approach. I cooed sweetly to the car, running my hand gently across the dash.

It was then I noticed the steam.

A thin thread of white was leaking from the hood’s seam. I downshifted, but instead of popping forward, the car tightened down into a crawl. I turned the wheel with effort and it all but collapsed on the shoulder. Now steam was billowing out from under the hood.  

I’d melted an engine gasket.

My Dad’s gasket melted more immediately when he learned the news.

While this was a formative lesson in the danger of ignoring dashboard warnings, it’s also a powerful metaphor for what’s unfolding in many settings today.

Covid was the endurance race no one prepared for.

In 2020, you were already working hard. When Covid arrived, you were asked to sprint. It was a crisis. You did and persisted.

But many of us never refueled.

There was no global sabbatical. No formal recalibration. Most of us never stopped running.

The mission, the community you serve, the job “security” can seem too important to make time for recovery. It's easier to ignore the instruments. You've had years of practice.

So you slap the dash. You lean in.

---

What signs are you ignoring TODAY?

---

Maybe your digestion has been off, sleep has been poor. Maybe you’re relying on alcohol, coffee, sweets and Netflix to self-medicate and hang on until the next holiday.

In quiet moments, dark thoughts, self-doubt and fear are growing.

These are gentle warnings, friend. They're indicator lights.

We may be laboring to reduce crises for others, not realizing we’re approaching one ourselves.

Because once the needle is in the red, we’ve lost much of our creative capacity. We're in survival mode. More hard-driving and we're coasting to the curb.

If you’re feeling stress and pressure, what prevention steps can you take to rest and recalibrate?

>Tap those vacation/sick days

>Investigate medical leave

>Ask a friend with a vacation cabin to loan it

>Board the dog and staycation for 48 hours

>Gift yourself a 2-night hotel retreat, sleep as long as you need

Friend, we're navigating a world that's aroused and in-crisis. New pressures, new threats and new challenges appearing every day.

It's like driving through the Mohave desert on its hottest day. The heat makes the horizon ripple. It's a long road ahead and we're minding our gauges.

That night, pre-cell phones, I locked up my little car and got scrappy. I scramble through a ravine thick with wild foliage and over a wire fence. By some miracle, I stumbled out of the weeds and onto a residential road. An elderly couple opened the door to my knock and drove me home.

We can make it. We're steely, determined and hell bent on getting to the other side. Let's take steps today to ensure we DO.