The story of how I freaked out and received a car anyway.

It was 9:32pm at the end of a long Tuesday. Work was still in crazy mode from the move, laundry sat in forlorn piles in our bedroom, and the empty fridge could not be ignored another day. My calendar was ballooning out of control with unexpected social engagements, and my head ached.

I called hubby on my way to the grocery store, hoping for a pep talk. Instead I heard:
"So, the car place called. They said it's the engine. The guy said they could probably sell our car for parts."

I gripped the steering wheel of our one working car. How could they offer so little for my faithful little Camry with the awesome gas mileage? And we'd just replaced the air conditioning that summer.

Suddenly, out of my mouth were coming fearful, panicky words that flung accusation on my man and fuel on my fear. It wasn't pretty.

Fear leaves little room for trust, especially when I speak it out loud. 

The next night I was still tense. I drove to the gym, popped in my earbuds, and clicked on a podcast by one of my favorite Bible teachers.

My legs and arms began to move in rhythm, and she started to tell a story of a whole nation who panicked. They looked into a new land, and instead of feeling excited that God had finally brought them to this beautiful place, they freaked out because the current residents made them feel small. They worried that they and their kids would be squashed like grasshoppers if they so much as stepped over the border.

The fear fostered amnesia. They forgot how God had rescued them out of slavery. They forgot how He'd fed them for 40 years. They forgot how He had already destroyed two nations for them.

I stepped off the machine and walked to the mats, feeling like the story was mine.

Those Jews looked at their smallness instead of God's bigness, and they shrunk back. Then she said something that made my pounding heart pause: "Their fear was rebellion."

After wiping away the tears that threatened to spill all over the exercise mat, I had an internal dialogue with God.

God, I'm sorry for not trusting you. I'm sorry for panicking instead of remembering how faithful you've ALWAYS been. You will always give me just what I need, even if it's not what I want. I don't want to forget your goodness. I don't want to rebel. 

There in the sweat and clang of the gym, I heard him say, Daughter, I forgive you. And I will always be your shepherd. Trust me. Stay close to me. Don't let your circumstances make you freak out. I am bigger than your circumstances.

A few days after my realization in the gym, hubby and I were actually feeling pretty excited about the one-car thing. After all, it was something we had seriously considered before. It meant less insurance to pay, less gas to buy, and less money to spend on up-keep. And it wasn't like we would be stranded. We have a bike, and we live a mere five minute walk from the University bus route.

We had just about decided that having only one car was the coolest move we ever made when my dad called. He said they had a car they weren't using, and wanted to know when they could drive it down to us.

"Aww, thanks, Dad! You're so sweet to let us borrow it for a while!"

He started laughing on the other end. "Oh, no sweetheart. We want to give you this car."

My jaw dropped, and I almost dropped the phone with the weight of what was being offered. After all my freaking out, my clenching and grasping at control, he was giving us a car.

So unexpected. So extravagant. So undeserved. And I thought to myself, this is what grace looks like.


Ok, I have to add this disclaimer--I don't share this story to say that God is good BECAUSE He gave us a car. Even if we had lost both cars at once, with no replacement, God would still be good because that is who He is. He is good, and He has already shown that goodness and mercy with crazy extravagance on a cross where He died in my place. 

I share this story because I want to remind myself to trust my Shepherd, and I hope that it can encourage someone else too. 

This month as the Christmas lights go up and the stores vie for our attention, I want to hope in Jesus, and not my circumstances. I want to cling to Him, the rock-solid constant, so that finances, social engagements, lack of sleep, or messy kitchens don't throw me for another crazy loop. 

Being a one-car family

For three weeks last month, my faithful little car sat inert and unresponsive in the driveway. Inserting the key did absolutely nothing--not a flicker of light or sound.

It was like a car coma.

We tried all the normal stuff--battery checks, tightening of connections and cables, even a battery swap with the running car--but nothing worked.

 #firstworldproblems

We were puzzled, but since we have a second car, life went on.

Actually, it went on beautifully. Each morning my sleepy, scruff-faced husband drove me the short distance to work and dropped me off at the front door.

Because I didn't have to trek the quarter mile from my parking lot to the office, I was able to leave the house ten minutes later. And when I was ready to leave, there he was with curbside service. So luxurious!

I started to look forward to those drives. Ten minutes of connection to bookend the workday. Who knew that living with less would feel like being spoiled?

Of course, getting places took some planning. There were some conversations that went like this:

"Wait, were you going somewhere? I was about to go to the--"

"Oh, ok, well...can you drop me off?"

"Maybe, but I don't finish my thing until--"

"Ooooo, that won't work. I'll call so-and-so. Maybe they can bring me home."

We have been talking for a while about downsizing to one car. Less gas. Less upkeep. And the thought of slashing our car insurance by 50% makes those Geico commercials look like amateurs.

But my weekend out-of-town plans couldn't happen without my car, so we finally had her towed. Sixty bucks later, I had wheels again.

During those three weeks, I felt God whisper to my heart: "I am all you need. Reconsider what is 'essential'" 

I want my life to be oriented toward things that will last, stuff that isn't stuff, you know?

I want to be distilled,
pruned.

Even if it means I'll need a ride. 

The Case of the Missing Mailbox

 Who on earth would want to steal a mailbox?

This is what hubby and I have been wondering, ever since our mailbox disappeared almost six weeks ago.

And we’re not talking about a little hump-backed classic with a red flag and a wooden post. Oh, no. This honker is a huge metal contraption with a honeycomb of mailboxes that serves nearly 20 families on our street.

It all started one night in October when I came home from the gym to find a police car flashing blue and red in front of our house. The policeman was inspecting a huge dent in our poor mailbox, which was lying flat on its back.

“Looks like y’all had a hit-n’run” he said. “No witnesses, so I really don’t have anything to write up.”

Two days later, it disappeared. We assumed the post office had collected its damaged property, but when the hubs went to pick up our mail, a postal worker informed us that some scalawag had stolen it!

The vacant spot where our mailbox once stood

Again, who would steal a mailbox, especially one so huge? Isn't that a federal offense? Is this some new level of thrill-theft, like stealing street signs?

Until they decide to lug another one out to our street and install it, we are braving the Christmas lines once a week to pick up our mail.

This whole saga is making me appreciate postal workers so much more than I ever have before!

More Than We Imagined

I am floored. I am blown away. I don't know whether it's more appropriate to jump up and down or to kneel--so I'm sitting here, shaking my head in amazement as I type. Have you ever asked God for something so huge that you felt nervous to ask, only to have Him completely dwarf your request with His generosity? Then you can understand. 

Yesterday, JC called an old friend. Just to chat, catch up, reconnect. I have always been amazed and challenged by my husband's talent for maintaining friendships through the years. This one in particular stretches back to high school.

New Isuzu transmission

As they traded recent stories, hubby shared the epic saga of last week's anniversary adventure: the car trouble, the attempts to fix it, the late-night rescue by our friend, the need for a complete transmission rebuild, and the reasonable price we found at a local shop in Denver.

We have been car-less ever since returning to Estes while our poor Isuzu has been in the shop, but we were just so thankful that the price was less than the $2,500 we were originally quoted. Yikes! We were thankful for savings to cover it, thankful that good friends came to pick us up, and thankful that to live at the Y, where walking is not only feasible but fun. Just a good story for a good laugh later.

But at the end of the conversation, our friend said, "I know you didn't ask, but I'm looking at our bank accounts. We have some money set aside for stuff like this..."

Yes. Our friend paid for our new transmission.

Not only did he pay for it; the amount he and his wife had saved to give away was the exact amount quoted to us by the repair shop.

I'm realizing all over again that God is bigger, richer, and more generous than I had imagined or hoped for. Here I was, asking for a fix that we could afford, never imagining that He wanted to do something like this!

If you're facing something that looks like it will drain you financially, emotionally, or in some other way, I hope that this can encourage you too!

The God who holds you is bigger than that giant.

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen." (Ephesians 3:20-21)

A Wild First Anniversary

As I typed that title, I realized that it could easily be misunderstood. If it helps, just insert the word "memorable", "unexpected", or "ridiculously crazy". Because those words certainly apply. 

As mentioned in an earlier post, my man and I had made some pretty awesome plans to stay at a ski resort after I picked him up at the airport Sunday afternoon. Apparently those places have awesome deals in the summertime!

We were so happy to see each other at the baggage claim! But when we got in the car, we were less happy to see a new light flashing on our dashboard. Our transmission fluid was low. Uh oh. 


[Hubby, the take-action man] "Quick--look up an auto parts store. We need to take care of this pretty quickly."
 [Me looking at my phone] "ok....here's one that looks close."

We arrived and were about to make a left turn into the parking lot when...the car refused to shift into drive. So close! Some kind guys helped push us the remaining few yards.

The next four hours were a hilarious comedy of errors:

• I bought transmission fluid, but it was for a different type of car. 
• We next bought the right fluid and lifted the hood, but there seemed to be a cap for every type of fluid EXCEPT transmission fluid. 
• It turns out that our car doesn't have access to the transmission from the hood area. Instead, you have to craw under the car, unscrew a bolt in the pan, and use a hand pump to get fluid in. 

Getting under our car. I felt like a grease monkey!

• I crawled under, but the nuts we had were too small for the bolt. 
• Got the right nut, but the ratchet was too short/I was too weak to turn it. 
• Got a longer ratchet. 
• Took off the bolt...and transmission fluid poured out! Oh noo! Lesson learned: the car needs to be running so that the fluid stays in the turbines. 
• Hose was too large for the hole. 

Hand pump we tried to use

• Smaller hose didn't have a good seal (aka: big mess)
• Broke the pump because the fluid was so thick.
• Finally pumped about two quarts in. Yay!!!  
• Let's try driving! Umm...it will only go into reverse. 

After consideration, we decided against driving backwards three hours to our resort.

By that time, the sun was down, we were hungry, and we realized that there was little chance of a rental place being open.

We suddenly remembered a good friend who happens to live in Denver. Maybe...?  Yes!  She came to our rescue, let us stay at her house and use her bed, shower, and car! So much better than sleeping in our broken car in the Autozone parking lot. We felt so incredibly loved, and we had a wonderful visit!

The next day was our anniversary. We used her car, got a tow truck to a local repair shop that quoted us a reasonable price, and found a rental place.

Then, we picked her up from work and all three of us went to see The Avengers in 3D!  (totally recommend it. :)  )

Now, this is a crazy story, and it might seem like everything that could have gone wrong did. But as hubby and I reviewed the day on our way to the resort, we noticed how God had really protected, provided, and given us wisdom!

We could have broken down in the middle of nowhere. Instead, we broke down within yards of an autoparts store.
We could have had to push it ourselves, but those guys helped us.
The guys who worked at Autozone were so friendly and helpful. They even loaned us tools and helped us pump!
We were actually laughing and having fun the whole time we worked on the car. Not stressed!
Our friend, "Aladon", rescued us and we had a great visit!
We had a free tow service.
We got a recommendation to a good repair shop that didn't insist on selling us an expensive warranty.
Our emergency fund was enough to cover the repair!
And...(this is the icing on the cake!)...our resort let us move the reservation, allowing us to stay for two nights even though we had technically been no-shows the night our car broke down!
We had a great, relaxing time at the resort, and then some good friends came to get us and bring us back to Estes Park after we dropped off the rental. 


An anniversary celebration that has no glitches or snags and is full of chocolate, romance and flowers is really nice. Really really nice. 


But this first anniversary felt like a celebration of the real life we share with each other. We're messy, things break and don't go as planned. But God is good, and we have fun. :)

The sunset on our way to the resort.

Beauty in Smashes

A friend's car got keyed--on purpose--this week.  Natural reactions that the average human might have in response to this range from annoyed to downright boiling, but my sweet friend just reminded herself that cars are temporary...and then started praying for the angry jerk.  (Not her words--mine.)

I'm not saying that she didn't have some angry thoughts before she responded so beautifully.  The point is, the response was beautiful.

My own car was hit--accidentally--two weeks ago.  See exhibit A. >>>>>>

The fact that it was an accident made my own calm response far less heroic, but I'm having plenty of chances to continue practicing patience.  Today, for instance, I showed up for my 4pm appointment at the collison repair place, only to be forgotten in the waiting room for an hour.  I hadn't had lunch (because I forgot it at home this morning), and my stomach was pinching my ribs pretty fiercely while I sat there, craning my neck to watch the Whitney Houston coverage unfold on the TV.  Patience...

When the guy finally came up to me, my hands were starting to shake with low blood-sugar, but he might have just thought I was excitable. He crouched down by the cracked plastic to look, checked my odometer, and 30 seconds later, I was on the road. I waited an hour for you to do 2 minutes of inspection? Arg.

By the time I got some delicious soup in my tummy, I was fine again. But why should acting like Christ depend so firmly on whether I feel hungry or not?

Jesus, help me trust you, even in annoying circumstances.