The Day the Minivan Died

So I haven't been blogging a ton these days.  Maybe I should pause here and just relay where our money has gone the past month because most of my time has been doing simple addition.  First, one of my daughters, name withheld, decided to pour something down our air vent.  In all my cleaning skills this smell was stuck.  The first person we called charged us $85 for a five minute house visit and a business card.  Called the business card company and they came out and replaced the air vent.  $125.  Moving right along...  Our dishwasher is dying a slow and painful death.  I cook a lot and I don't do dishes and Thanksgiving is coming up.  So add several hundred to that.  (Pausing here to say this was purchased before the following...) I needed new tires on our van.  $125.  And several fixes to van.  $900.  That finished October off with a bang.  Wooo!!

Last Monday night I was taking the girls home from swim and there was heavy traffic.  Do I take the highway or back roads?  Girls are playing, chatting about wanting a new car, wanting to eat at "Chick-A-Lay", you know, random stuff I can't nearly concentrate on and answer all of while driving.  "Girls, our van is fine- old, maybe, but it runs and it's paid for.  I have dinner planned so no dinner out."  You know, nice words when I wanted to just say something snappy.

Just then, I kid you not, I take a right turn and the transmission goes.  I carefully and slowly maneuver the van into a taj mahal driveway- thank you God for their elaborate Fort Knox set up- and I know it's not good.  So my dad rescues us and takes us to, you guessed it, Chick-fil-A for dinner.  So the girls got what their heart desired last night- dinner out and a new vehicle.  (They are no longer allowed to talk in the car.  I'm only kidding...or am I??)  

We actually don't need a minivan.  So we are pricing fixing our transmission (read a few thousand dollars) or purchasing a new one (another few thousand dollars).  I wasn't initially sure what type of vehicle I wanted.  We are at a crossroads.

We test drove and priced, witnessed a great three-ring show from the clowns people at the car dealership.  He lost interest really quick when I told him the best kind of car was one without a payment.  Preferably used.  Just to jump us to that next phase in life.  (I might have said, "I'm just here to test drive your car that I won't buy, sir."  Or maybe my face said that.  I can't remember.  New car smell blur?)

And what is the next phase you ask?  I have no clue.  The minivan was purchased with a goal of filling it up.  We have not filled it up.  With the death of the minivan, my plans are dying, too.

I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.  I just know I got a little teary when the salesman veered me away from SUVs and towards minivans, saying he didn't think I was ready to get rid of a van.  Maybe I should wait.  Singing the praises of vans and something about stages in life and if I was ready and well, I got tired of hearing his fatherly advice.  I got tired of this object being safety pinned to my emotions.  Maybe we just need a sedan.  A nice neutral car to get us around town to close that door.

So in the meantime, I share my dad's sedan and it's a great car.  Leaning back against his lumbar support pillow we set off for our field trip to the Lemur Center yesterday.  I gave the girls their instructions.  I promised not to leave them with the monkeys regardless of if they act like monkeys. (Please don't use the term monkeys around the Duke Lemur folks.  You will be set in your place quicker than a greased monkey.  Monkeys are not equal to lemurs.  You have been warned.)  I also made them promise to not bring a monkey, I mean lemur, home with us.  They have no place at our house.  I already have two of my own.  When daddy is off work I count three.

We were driving, windows down, on this beautiful fall day.  Playing a game of catching leaves in our car as they fell all around us as we drove.  (Delightfully fun but leaves don't fall in your car as hard as you might try, FYI.)  They had their heads tilted back with breeze blowing, laughing.  Doing what little girls need to do, what little girls are designed to do- lose themselves and delight in the moment.

I realized I was missing something.  I needed to see them let go.  I needed to see their reckless care, driving my sweet dad's sedan several years old while our other several years old van is our "lady in waiting" so to speak while we decide.  In a car which they love because it smells like their sweet Poppy.

I think I'm letting go slowly but leaving a door open.  A door of gratitude.  A door of opportunity.  A door representing resilience and willingness to be moved by my Creator.

The focus of losing myself and delighting in the moment.  Thankful bent knee.  He's in control.