Peace Be Still

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I’m sitting here hunkered down in the Motorhome nervously watching the tops of the trees blow and roar. I used to love lying in bed listening to storms with the wind whipping through the trees but that was before we had 3 trees topple in the February of 2017. They were 50-year-old trees and one hit the house, thankfully no one hurt. But it takes its toll. Now we joke and say we have PTSD whenever we hear of the winds picking up. 

I am sitting and praying for Jesus to please hold up the trees. I tell him, “All it would take is “Peace be still” from you and it would all be over. Then I thought of all the other storms we are facing and tears immediately sprang to my eyes. I worry about our stuff in the trailer…..all the stuff that used to fill our home and I don’t even know what shape it’s in.

I think of my car, still wrecked in the car port, undrivable. I think how nothing really has worked out the way I thought it would here. I thought of the world situation and that it just really too much. 

But then in almost the same breath I thanked God for keeping us all safe. I thanked him for this place of beauty and that these storms, none of them will last forever.

I thanked Him that I got over this cold extremely fast. I thanked Him for my Tax return coming in just in time. I thanked Him for a friend who takes care of everything here while I am at work, or visiting my folks, or wherever…..and her positive and hopeful attitude and uplifting spirit.

I thought for the umpteenth time, there is always more to be grateful for than to fear. 

And I thanked Him for who He is. The Master and Commander who still has everything, including me in His capable hands. I think of how scared the Disciples must have been that night on the sea, how scared. And there was Jesus sound asleep. I think He was just testing them to see how long it would take before they woke HIm. 

I think of how long it takes me sometimes. When all I have to do is call His name. 

Life is grace. Sleep is forgiveness. The night absolves. Darkness wipes the slate clean, not spotless to be sure, but clean enough for another day’s chalking.

― Frederick Buechner

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Ode to my Buggy

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It is sitting in my Aunt’s car port looking sad, forlorn and undrivable. I know it’s just a car but for almost 14 years it’s been part of my identity. People knew me by my sunshiny yellow bug. They always smiled when they saw me in it. And I used to love seeing kids faces light up as they saw it and then joyfully punched each other in the arm. Even parents got a kick out of it and now and again even mostly sullen teenagers would temporarily relive their childhoods when they saw it. 

When I commuted to work it became a place of prayer and joyful singing and sometimes tears. I had 35-40 minutes each way in it. It was a Holy bug. I listened to the Bible all the way through on CD, and Handel’s Messiah during Christmas and Easter. I confess sometimes I had to also ask forgiveness for the names I called stupid drivers on the road. Who doesn’t have a little road rage at least part of the time. 

My buggy was also where I would sometimes sneak into the parking lot at Intel to catch a power nap in the middle of my 12 hour shift. I don’t think I have slept as soundly since. I still remember one day I had the sunroof open and a dove perched itself on the edge and looked down at me. 

I was rear ended a week and two days ago, but whose counting? I was minding my own business stopped and waiting, yielding for someone who was making a left turn up ahead of me. I looked in the rearview mirror and realized the truck coming up behind me was not going to stop. There was nothing I could do. I felt the sickening impact and mentally I hear it again and again. 

My buggy was in almost perfect shape. For 14 years it has been maintained and loved. There have been times I have been very grateful I bought the extended warranty and even after the new transmission, I forgave it. Some thought I should just trade it in. It had electrical problems, and at times I cursed it when the blinkers went out for umpteenth time. 

But for some reason I just couldn’t let it go. When I moved back to California my commuting days were over. Everything in this town is only 5 minutes away. I always said I’d drive it until the doors fell off. Until now. I have been robbed of that chance by someone with no insurance or driver’s license. And I even feel bad for him. 

If I had sold it before the wreck, could have gotten high blue book. In fact not too long ago someone left a note on it, expressing an interest in buying it. Did I mention it was paid off? Yes, I have not had a car payment for several years. That will have to change now too. 

Today on my walk I saw two yellow buggies and one red one. Today when I go to the library I won’t get to park my yellow car by the yellow cottage and pretend it’s where I live. But enough sadness. There were no injuries in the accident and I know it could’ve been much, much worse. I know it’s only a car. 

But it was my Buggy and I loved it. 

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