That's not even the introduction to some wonderful life-changing news, like I won the lottery or got a raise or brought the Lincoln home or anything. I KNOW, RIGHT?! Trust me, I am the most surprised of all; nothing remarkable or dramatic has happened, nothing has changed on the outside, yet here I am, having a good day for no apparent reason.
It's the kind of "happy" I would describe more as "peaceful". Today, I'm happy to be alive and to be able to enjoy all of the gifts with which I have been blessed. I asked God for everything so I could enjoy life; He gave me life so I could enjoy everything. I am truly blessed.
I just realized I never shared the link to my previous entry on FB, and apparently if I don't do that, no one ever reads my blog. I am not good at marketing myself. That's why I miss Xanga; I could just sit down, write, post, and BOOM! People would find and read my blog their own selves. I didn't have to be like, Hey! You! Read this! 😲
Anyway, there were a bunch of storms here yesterday. By "here" I mean in the vicinity of our homeplace, during the time when we were not here. Storms make me nervous, but not being here when there are storms here makes me even more nervous. Not to mention that I missed out on some good photo ops. Well, I don't know if I missed out on any, because I wasn't here, and our ring cameras aren't pointed at the sky, and our house is in a valley so I probably didn't miss any good photo ops, after all. Long story short, everything was OK in our little corner of the world. There were tornado touchdowns not too far from here, and one of our friends from church had some damage to outbuildings and lost some chickens, but as far as I know there was no loss of human life in our area.
I feel like I'm reporting the news now.
Regarding my last blog entry that I didn't pimp on the social medias, and the title of today's blog entry, the parts I was all stressed out about ordering for the Lincoln made it to the shop safely yesterday morning. And...drumroll, please...they were the right parts!
Now, I feel like it's sacrilegious (which looks like it's spelled all kinds of wrong, but I triple-checked) to say this, but sometimes I wonder if our loved ones in Heaven don't have a hand in what happens down here, too. Ya know? We don't know what Heaven is truly like, who's to say that someone like, oh, say, my Dad wouldn't, like, tap God on the shoulder sometime and be like -- Hey, I know you've got a lot on your plate right now; how about if I take over this one for a little bit? And then when I'm sitting here trying to find parts online that I know nothing about, he just, like, waves his hand and BAM! makes the parts I need show up when I need them to, and tells me those are the parts I need, and makes all that fall into place while God is off doing way more important things for someone else while I just need a couple of helpful favors.
I don't like the thought of being sacrilegious. But I do find so much comfort in thinking that my Dad still has a hand in all of this. From finding the right mechanic, to helping me find the right parts...it's just a peaceful kind of comfort. I obviously don't want to mess anything up on the Lincoln. It was his baby, and now it's mine.
Which is another unexpected surge of emotion I had this week. We got the new title. The one with my and my hubby's names on it. I thought I'd be overjoyed to get this damn piece of paper. It just made me sad. It felt almost like a betrayal. It almost felt wrong. Like, that's my Dad's car, but that's my name on the title. Like all those times he said, "Someday this is going to be yours..." and I always rolled my eyes because "Someday" meant -- well, it meant when he was no longer of this Earth. So there was more proof that he's gone, not like I need more proof, but there it was. In my hand. In my house. In something that I've been happy about and looking forward to. "This car's going to be yours someday..." Yep, well, "someday" is here, the car is mine, and my Dad is gone.
Inheriting cool stuff sucks. You're happy to have it, but the reason you have it pierces your heart.
I'm afraid I'm going to feel like that driving it and showing it. I hope I don't. So far I haven't, but so far I've only driven it the 5 miles or whatever from my parents' house to my cousin's shop. And I've felt anything but heart-pierced then. The first time, I was nervous, yes, because it's such a big car and I didn't want it to break down. But it felt natural driving it. It feels like I am meant to drive that car. The second time driving it, I felt so comfortable... not just because it has big, plus seats, lol. Like comfortable in my soul. Comfortable like how you feel when you're in the right place at the right time doing the right thing with the right people and the right intentions.
Comfortable as if my Dad was right there with me, and nothing could ever go wrong in the world again.
Until we pulled up to the stop light and the engine started spitting. It had half a tank so I knew it wasn't running low, but I also knew it had 10+ year old gas in it, that even my mechanic cousin said he was amazed that the car runs and drives with that stuff in it's veins. Was this it? Was it's time drawing near? Come on, baby, I said, rubbing the dash. We're going to the shop to get all fixed up. You can do this. Just a few more miles on this old crappy gas and I promise, you'll feel better than new again.
And at the next stop light...she sounded even worse. I started formulating my back-up plan: instead of sitting at the red light (because she only did it when she was idling), I'd have to deviate from the planned route, turn right, and avoid red lights as much as possible.
It was a tense few minutes, but we made it. I knew we would :)
Gotta get back to work. It's still a happy Friday, even though I'm crying. My hubby was in the neighborhood so he stopped and checked in on her, and my cousin hopes to have her done on Monday. Here's hoping!
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