I was coming to the coffee shop to blog about hope and faith too. I was coming to get the weight of words off my heart and put some order to them. I was coming to straighten out the floating ideas. In the same way about a month ago I was driving home from Florida and ended up spending the night in a 24 hour McDonalds, courtesy of a state trooper and an insistent father and a supposed blown head-gasket. I have plans and they are changed. Like today. Suffice it to say that the adventure of a few minutes ago includes a tire falling off, an airbag deployed, and a passerby who kindly informed me that my car probably wasn't worth getting fixed anyway.

Thank you.

Thank you, I know that I have an 18 year old car, that kids in drivers-ed are younger than my car. Thank you, I know that my car has cost me far more than it's been worth since I bought it three years ago. Thank you, I know that the events of the past few months concerning said car should probably have given me the slightest clue that regardless of a mere 130,000 miles on a Honda that will run for another 100,000 based on the engine alone, I should probably have given up on her six months ago. Regardless of all her sage green goodness that everyone thinks suits me well--some books may be judged by the cover, but this is not usually recommended when it comes to vehicles.

Thank you. I know that I pride myself on just getting by and thrift stores and making do with scraps and leftovers because it makes me feel creative and useful. Thank you, I know that Christ came to give us life abundant, but I'll stay as far from indulgent as possible. Thank you, I'll take the the employment that pays peanuts for the trade-off environment. Thank you, I'm very happy with hand me downs and give aways and cheap cars with good gas mileage and endless cups of coffee and repurposing and things that are cool like that. No really, kindly passerby, don't judge my worth on the worth of my car.

That's only for me to do, thank you very much.

Because I'll tell you, dear reader, when you grow so accustomed to just making do that you always come up short and one day you find yourself with a fat lip from an airbag and a tow truck guy who tells you that "Probly bend your fender when we pull it on the flatbed, just so you know, you'll have to get that fixed too...if they don't total it already..." Dear reader, you begin to wonder if bad things happen to good people because you're worth as much as the bad things that happen.

And, I know, I know, that that isn't true. That there isn't even an ounce of truth in that statement--but the wondering doesn't stop. It doesn't. And it doesn't stop because there's just life and life hits hard sometimes. For some more than others.

A friend once exclaimed to me, "Lor, you're always in the middle of scrapes and situations!" Which is ironic, because I love peace and loathe drama so much. But for some reason, it's true. I don't know how to end this on a happy note and if only you knew, dear reader, how my drafts folder is just piling up recently with things that don't end on a happy note and so I deem unworthy of posting here on this page. But I'm posting it anyway--not for pity, but for prayer. If you have time and inclination. I could use the prayer.

So could my car.