After a long, cold winter, I’ve really been looking forward to the warmth of spring.  I’m anxious to see the stark, brown, weary landscape around me turn green; I’m straining my ears to hear the first night peepers celebrating that the new season has finally arrived.  There is such a wonderful sense of anticipation in the air! One thing I was not looking forward to, however, was shelling out more money for car repair.

A couple of years ago my family was blessed by someone who had heard we were in great need of a car so that my teenage son could learn how to drive (I was not prepared to give him driving lessons in our 15-passenger van!).  We were so excited to have a secondary mode of transportation, and it has aided us very well each and every day for the past two years, allowing all of the kids to get to their perspective lessons, jobs, and after-school activities.

Being an older model (1991), it’s had its share of setbacks and has spent more hours with my trusty mechanics than I care to count.  That, I suppose, is to be expected.  So when it started to lurch and grumble and complain about its geriatric aches and pains once again last week, it was back to the auto “ER” for us.  I had expected to hear that the battery was dying (we had already planned for it to be replaced); I had expected to hear that possibly the fuel pump was dead (since on that last day, we barely managed to get it up the steep road to our driveway).  But I was not, in any way, prepared for the grim news that awaited me last Thursday when my mechanic made the dreaded call…

“I hate to have to tell you this…” he began.  “As a matter of fact, I was dreading calling you...I’m afraid your engine is no longer holding any compression and it can’t be repaired.”  

I sat back in my chair, speechless.  Really??  So soon?  I mean, I know that the car was old--that it had many miles on it--but when I bought it, I was reassured that this model and make should run for years yet.  I had complete confidence that we were to share a lot of experiences and memories for a long time to come.  It had already seen one of my boys obtain that all-coveted driver’s license, and had taken that same grown-up son to his first real job.  It had weathered two more teenagers’ stops and starts as they too learned how to drive.  It’s shared many sunsets and sunrises as family members have reached their destinations at all times of day (and night).  So how could this have happened?  Why now?

And that’s just what I asked my mechanic.  “But how?  Did we do something to damage it?”

“It’s really hard to say...these things happen all the time, but I’ve yet to see it with this model.  I’m actually really surprised--it was the last part I expected to see go,” was his apologetic reply.

We spoke a while longer.  After hanging up the phone, I sat pondering my new predicament...Great...that’s just great...like I don’t have enough bills to pay.  How am I supposed to replace this car, God?  I implored the heavens.  I can’t even fathom where I’m going to come up with enough money. I was so frustrated...worried...defeated.

The past few days has been spent coming up with ways to raise the funds I need.  I really need to replace the car since I can only drive my son the 40-mile round trip to work for so long while still trying to maintain the rest of my busy schedule.  And, as you might be hoping to hear, God has heard my grumbles, my complaints, my cries...He’s even heard my doubts that He could pull yet another rabbit out of His hat.  And, despite the outcry of my childish human nature, He has blessed me with just the right amount of money to secure a replacement, which I hope to have very soon.

But, in the meantime, my almost “too good to be true” mechanics offered me to scrap my old car, salvage any parts they could, and give me the money for it, or put it towards another car (they buy cars from auction and fix them up to sell).  I was all for it!  Anything to help me find a replacement and to help my life return to normal--well, normal for me, anyway :)

So imagine my surprise--and great annoyance--when I brought my other vehicle, my van, in to the same mechanics’ shop yesterday to have some routine work done on it, to spy my loyal old car still sitting on their lot.  They had yet to take it to the metal yard.  I saw that my belongings were still in it, and I offered to take them all now since I was there, to make it easier on them.  And as I opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat for one last time, I took in the familiar smell of it, running my fingers over the dash.  I found the keychain and began to remove my mail key from it, which was fast becoming a difficult task due to the unexpected blurry view through my now watery eyes.  I chastised myself.  Come on, pull it together--you can do this--it’s just a hunk of metal, after all. Somehow, I managed to go through the car and pick up everything of importance: a water bottle, a coffee mug, two phone charging cords, various papers, a shiny silver windshield protector, the jumper cables in the trunk, and the entire contents of the glove compartment.

I chucked them all into the passenger’s seat of my van, thanked and paid the mechanics for their services, and got the hell out of there as fast as I could before my emotions took hold of me once again.  I sobbed half the way home, wondering if, in fact, I had truly gone mad.  I still couldn’t figure out why I was so upset about leaving that old car behind.  But then suddenly it was all painfully clear:  I had just relieved my last day with my late husband.

I sat there, driving blindly, recounting that terrible day and its events in sequence.  And I discovered way too many parallels: coming home that morning to find the EMTs preparing to take Bill to the hospital by ambulance/having the car towed away; preparing myself to take on the particulars of what was wrong with Bill as I awaited the myriad of tests performed at the ER/doing the same with the car as I awaited the mechanic’s call; finding out that it was not just a serious problem, but that there was little to no hope of survival in both cases.  

The comparisons extended ridiculously poignantly after this.  Now, as I stood beside my mechanics, discussing which parts of the car might be salvageable to fix other cars’ ailments, I remembered a sobering conversation that I had had at the hospital years ago with a member of an organization that locates organs for donation.  Although Bill had not indicated as such on his driver’s license, I was absolutely sure he would have wanted to donate his organs, so I made the decision to release his body to these people, praying that they could use my loss for someone else’s (or many other patients’) gain--to extend their lives.

Finally, as I loaded what was left of the contents of the car into my van, I vividly remember walking out of the hospital that cold late winter’s night, nine-and-a-half months pregnant, carrying a pair of Bill’s shoes and a plastic bag filled with the clothes he had been wearing that day in my arms, and remarking in a stunned, surreal sort of way to my friends who were with me, “But I still have his shoes...he’s going to need his shoes to get home…”

So, it was the unexpected that rocked my world, in a major way seven years ago, and in a smaller fashion this past week.  In both cases, I had asked myself the same really hard question: “How am I supposed to meet the needs of my family now, by myself?”  Where there had once been two vehicles to transport us and meet our needs and to fulfill our plans, now there was only one; where they had once been two people to love and care for our family, two people to dream of “someday” and to plan out our goals and desires, now there was only one.  That thought really resonated through me yesterday...I get so weary constantly worrying about making the right decisions for my family, about trying to make sure each person gets what they need and want, about how some changes far too slowly come to fruition, while others seem to sweep through maddeningly swiftly and mercilessly.

But always, there is finally heard that small, quiet voice in my head.  “Are you truly alone?  Have I ever caused something or allowed something to enter into your life without providing for you?”

“Of course you haven’t,” I answer.  And it is true.  Never have I walked a step on this earth without God knowing where it would take me.  It doesn’t mean that making the journey is easy.  But I have to remind myself that sometimes it is in the small steps we see ourselves taking that eventually become big leaps when we stop and look back at where we’ve been.  I’ll be glad when today is just a small step to reflect on as I once again readjust...new car, new direction, new hope in the One that never fails me...