There goes my nice neat box. Tomorrow Hailey and I head out to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre (The name confuses me; how do they power up those big screens, small microphones and loud musical instruments?) for the Third Clay Foot Tour (Third Day, Jars of Clay and Switchfoot). But today, as I chugged up the steep grade to my house, my car blew up.
By God’s grace I was able to drive it into a gas station and call for a tow. Furthermore, my daughter’s school bus was late, so she was coming up the hill as the tow truck inched past her and her mom, my car proudly displayed. So her mom drove me home and offered to drive me to the airport.
No, I’m not flying into the concert. Where I live there is one car rental place. And they are out of cars. All three of them. So, it’s down to the airport to rent a car.
I’d already made plans to pull Hailey out of school. I’ve got the hotel reservations. I’ve Googled the directions. All the boxes that I can control I’ve taken care of.
I keep telling myself to get perspective, take a deep breath. This is not a big thing. Frustrating though, as we’ve had these tickets for half-a-year.
God’s timing is funny. He allowed my car to explode TODAY. But the bus was late so I got a ride. There are no cars for rent here. But Hailey’s mom’s willing to drive the 40 minutes to the airport. Gracious offer, and I’ll take it. Emotionally though, that’s 38 minutes longer than our usual conversations. Now I wait.
Will I be able to get a rental car? Will I get a ride down the hill? Will scientists agree on global warming? I’ll keep you posted.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment