I’m helping a friend with some carpooling. For a schoolkid. It’s taken a little while for me to get with the program and go in the right way and go out the right way. And how things change a little for the morning drop-off and the afternoon pick-up.

FYI-Nine cars can get through the light at the turn signal and then on through a driveway. Or, if I’m too far back in the line (car #11, for example) I can go straight and enter through a different driveway.

It’s a bit of a dance, and morning’s always easier, because not everyone’s arriving at exactly the same time. And the school employees who are guiding things along are fresh and calm. Afternoon is a little more challenging, because all the kids are getting out at the exact same time, and the school employee who is tasked with keeping us all in order seems a little bit stressed.

I also am stressed because they put traffic cones across the primary exit. Yes, they do. The rationale seems to be to keep cars from coming in that driveway, and therefore causing a traffic snarl. I, personally, have never seen anyone come in that outgoing space, but, of course, I’m not there all day. And, in all the days I’ve been on carpool duty this fall, I have never once seen a school employee come and remove the traffic cones so we carpool drivers can get out. I’ve seen parents get out of their cars and move a cone or two, but not anyone else.

A couple of nights ago, when I was having trouble sleeping, mainly because I was thinking about the next day’s afternoon carpool and how I needed to get in line first, or so, to be able to get going. I stewed and grumbled, and then had an epiphany. I needed to improve my attitude. I thought, I can move the traffic cones to make the exiting easier for all of us. And, I can do it nicely and creatively.

My plan consisted of moving the cones and putting them in interesting, creative patterns. My plan for that day was to stack all four cones and put them in the center of the driveway, so there would be plenty of space for cars to drive past easily and turn onto the roadway. Then, the next day, I thought, I could put two cones next to the left-hand side of the driveway and two cones next to the right-hand side of the driveway. Then, I could put pairs of cones on the grass next to each side of the driveway. I was satisfied with this idea that would take away the anger and frustration I was feeling and would give me a sense of helpfulness, and, well, whimsy.

Then, when I got up, I read through a little devotional that comes to me through e-mail. That day, it said, “Mercy is an act of grace or unmerited favor when other options are available and seem more appealing. It’s taking your foot off the neck of someone when, by every standard of this world, they deserve to be crushed. Mercy is a characteristic of mature Christians. It’s not easy, and it’s not consistent with the messages of today’s world — to hit back hard, to wall ourselves off from the undeserving.” Okay, the afternoon school employee who supervises carpool hardly deserves to be crushed. But I felt affirmed in that I was making a plan that would be a kind thing for me to do and I could feel like I was doing something helpful.

Here’s how it worked out: That afternoon, I arrived earlier than on other days, because I had something I planned to do and I wanted to get there a little early to be able to pick up my carpoolee and get going. I parked close to the exit driveway, got out, and moved the first traffic cone. I slipped it on top of the next cone and was picking them up to move them to the center of the driveway, when the afternoon carpool lady came racing towards me, yelling, “Don’t move the cones!!” (Lest you think I’m doing something egregious, every day some parent moves one or two cones, to be able to leave the parking lot.)

I said, “But I need to move a cone to be able to get out of the parking lot.”

She said, “The cones are to keep people from driving in.”

“Yes,” I said. “But, we need to be able to leave the parking lot. School is out for today.”

And she said, “You can go out that way,” as she pointed to another lane in the parking lot.

I looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“When I tried to do that last week, you got angry with me,” I said.

She did not have a reply.

“How about,” I said, “I can pull my car up close to the space where the cone was, and that will keep anyone from driving into the parking lot.”

She again did not have a reply. But she walked away.

I got in the car and pulled up close to the coneless space. Then, a few minutes later, a lady whose student had apparently rushed out of school and hopped into the car, rolled down her window and called out to me, “Can you move your car a little bit, so I can get out.”

“Sure,” I called over to her, as I began backing up. And, of course she needed me to move, as the driveway was blocked by the remaining three traffic cones.

Perhaps I should find out the afternoon carpool lady’s name, so I can thank God for her. It cannot be an easy job.