Yesterday I had a meeting in the town next to mine and it takes just over a half hour to get there. I love early mornings when the frosty mist stills hangs about and everything is fresh and cool. It as if the night couldn't leave without letting some of its shadows hang about so the world is cloaked in sheer gray. The truck was working just fine and I made it to my destination smoothly. I made plans with my best friend to get together to modify and update my resume after the meeting ended. I was filled with joy and thankfulness- I was able to drive again, I was going to see my best friend and not have to bum a ride to an important meeting! YAY! Things did not go as planned.
Leaving the meeting I climbed into driver's seat and made my way past curvy roads and scenic views. Then right at the half-way point between where I was coming from and my best friend's house I came up behind a school bus having to let off some kids. It was there, being stopped behind a yellow bus that my truck just died. No warning, no odd sounds, nothing. It just stopped. It stopped and worse still, it wouldn't start. I waved the people behind me to go around and one couple actually got out and helped push the truck off the roadway. Another woman joined in and we managed to get the it to a safe place. Ironically, the place where the truck slid to was someones house, the only house in the area with a sign that said, "KEEP OUT," in big, bold and slightly creepy red paint. Hoping that my newly gained mechanic's skills would save the day and get me out of the ominous driveway, I popped the hood open and checked everything I could think of. And everything was fine. I called my best friend to pick me up and then I called my cousin who had been instructing me over this last month. Sadly, Matt (my cousin) thought possibly the fuel pump was out.
Now here's the funny part, the man whose driveway I was parked in came home. He is a BIG, burly, Harley-Davidson motorcycle driving, military vet with a curly white beard that goes down his barrel chest. As he got off his motorcycle and lumbered over to me, I prepared myself to be yelled at. This man however, was so sweet and helpful. He joked that the "KEEP OUT" sign was to keep religious fanatics away, (I wonder if he saw my Bible in the front seat). He let me borrow a tool to tighten up a wire and also agreed that it sounded like a fuel pump problem. By this time my best friend had arrived and together we moved the truck further into the driveway.
So my best friend and I left. I was pretty devastated by the turn of events. All I could think of was, "Another part to fix and probably something else on top of the fuel pump? I don't have any money to fix this!" We arrived at my best friend's house and he began to make us all lunch and that's when all the stress built up and flooded out. I felt like nothing was working and everything was breaking down. Without a running vehicle, the jobs I want to apply to are nearly impossibilities for me. Everything crashed down around me and I couldn't do anything about it.
My best friend is amazing. He listened and tried to encourage me. And he also said some very hard things that I am still milling over. But I have to say, I am incredibly stubborn. The poor man was dealing with more than he knew about and dealt wonderfully with my spring of gushing tears and arguments. We managed to go through my resume, have a few laughs (eventually) and enjoy some of the day.
He drove me home after another attempt at getting my own truck to run to no avail. God knows what was going to happen that day and He made sure there would be someone with me who could keep me from falling. While the whole time I couldn't see past the rubble, He made sure there would be someone who could and could help me breath a little easier. I probably would still be desolate had it not been for God sending me my best friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment