happened to me today. When I read some of the other mommy bloggers, I often think that perhaps I'm just not sanguine enough to have the type of experiences that writers like Fiddledeedee and Antique Mommy detail--the jovial and humoresque events of going to Wal-Mart for shampoo or even just simply taking a walk. Instead, I load people in the car, they unload at the destination and we all just try to live my motto of "Go There, Be There, Do There, and Leave There." Anything untoward that happens usually is forgotten or mentally misplaced by the time I've returned home and sit to blog.
Today was the exception. And all because my tires needed rotating.
My husband very early took the Starship Odyssey to the shop to have some tune up work done for the round of summer traveling that will happen over the next three months. I had a hair appointment at 10:00 and made known that I must have transportation of some sort to get there with 3 boys in tow. He took the whole "transportation of some sort" in a liberal way, obviously because the car place sent the Loaner Van. As he dropped the Loaner Van off, he mentioned offhandedly that it shook a bit while idling, the check engine light was on, and a window didn't go down, but it was clean and the AC worked great--very important on a 98 degree day.
Getting out of the house this morning was akin to herding turtles with cat's attitudes and I was 32 ozs shy of having had the necessary black caffeine infusion for the day's errand list. Finally, everyone was in the car, but the booster seat was missing--both booster seats were in the Starship. The only other option was a toddler sized carseat that would not buckle around the 6 year old. Judge me lightly, but I placed him in the rear with an adjusted seatbelt and made him assume the crash position.
Next, I was informed that the library books due today were in the Starship. And I suspected that my sunglasses were also in the Starship. At this point, I'm really wishing myself in the Starship as well--on the way to Venus and a spa. But, the Loaner Van was there--clean and with working AC which I turned on to full blast because at 9:15, it was all ready 82 degrees with 98 percent humidity.
Turning on the car yielded the first clue that we were in for a ride--a jet engine ride. The car shaking a bit while idling--that was an understatement. The crash position kid's teeth were chattering. The older two started giggling and asked if the van was a diesel. The front seat would have offered me a massage, but I couldn't properly adjust the back of the seat because the seat controls were no longer attached to the seat. Grimacing, we pulled out.
The first stop was the bank so I could go through the drive through and cash a birthday check. Sitting there, smiling at the teller who was smiling at me, I realized which window didn't roll down--mine! As her smile faded at my efforts, I finally mouthed, "MY WINDOW'S BROKEN! HOLD ON!" Because you can't mouth without shouting through two panes of glass, one bulletproof reinforced, to get your point across. I backed up the van and pulled sideways so I could open the door and stand beside the drive through window. I didn't receive a sucker for my efforts, because I was so obviously one anyway--for driving a Loaner Van.
Then on to destination haircut where I was refreshed and renewed to a younger hair color and cut. Then to lunch for square hamburgers and fries, the library, the grocery store, and the pharmacy. Of course, we hit every light and stop sign between all destinations subjecting us all to spinal re-alignment shaking.
When I realized that my frustration level was about to peak with all of the shaking, the chattering, the giggling, and the questions that could not be heard over the diesel jet engines and a radio that had no volume control but loud, I thought, "What is God trying to teach me today? There must be something."
Gratitude, contentment, patience, trust, were all top contenders for being able to sum up a wearying morning and afternoon with a tidy spiritual application. All bear truth for what I did learn in trying to obey His words over my feelings of frustration. But no one stood out as the singular Ebenezer for me.
To wit, I realized that I'd learned the lesson necessary. God's grace was sufficient for my weakness. He allowed me to laugh with the boys over the jet, to appreciate the square hamburger, to hug the son carrying the groceries, and to remember that turning to Him and asking the question, "What are you trying to teach me?" was a lesson in itself.
That, and I got to blog about it too.