Note: I wrote most of this last fall and then finished the story tonight.
“Screeeeeech… screeeeech!” That is the noise of my frustration coming from somewhere around the front wheels of my car. “Grrrr” is the noise coming from me. Resisting the urge to pull over and exercise my kicking skills against the car, I turn into the parking lot at work instead and try my best to put the noises out of my mind until I can tend to them later. Praying over the car and then making it a burnt offering crosses my mind.
In the afternoon, I nervously walk back to my wax-long-gone vehicle and start it up hoping the first fall rain miraculously has wet enough of whatever is making the noise to finally make the car be quiet and not let the noises cast the “shadow of the valley of death” onto my automobile’s valuable life. “Here’s to hoping” I think.
Following the advice of a friend, I turn the radio’s volume up so I can’t hear the noise because if you can’t hear it, the noise doesn’t exist, right? This is what I have been telling myself throughout the several weeks as my car has elected to make one noise, or two, after another but I can no longer stand the aggravation. “That’s it!” I decide. “I’m taking you in!” Windshields wipers making back and forth trips across my window, shooing the raindrops away, I find my way through the rain over to where I know I need to go. I often avoid this place and I wish I had a good reason for doing so but until I actually get there and talk with the guy, it’s hard to go to this shop because I’ll take the car in for one thing and the mechanic points out something else that needs to be fixed. Or a couple of things. Take your pick. It can be a heart-rending experience, especially if I haven’t been in for a while and I know work needs to be done.
Parking the car in an otherwise empty parking lot, I grab my little purple backpack from the seat beside me and try to cover the lenses on my glasses as I hurry to the front door of Ahava Auto. Bell jangling to announce my entrance, I wipe my feet on the matt and look up to see the mechanic coming in through the shop door to my left.
“Sarah! How have you been? Car giving you trouble again? You know, you can come see me anytime, not just when the car is making noises. I miss talking with you!”
Sheepishly, I look into his face, “Hi God. I know and I’m sorry. I miss our talks too. It’s been a busy week but I really need your help with this. I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“No problem but you don’t have to save me till last.” he cheerfully replies with a wink and a smile. “Let’s see what we can do. Give me your keys and we’ll take it for a test drive first.”
After opening the front door for me and unlocking the car, we slide onto the bench seats of what I like to call, “my grandpa muscle car” and he pulls out onto the road with a master’s skill. “So how have you been this week?”
“Okay. I have too much on my plate. I really appreciate and am grateful to you for the house sitting work and the full-time hours for a little while but they are demanding and other things aren’t getting done. I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Don’t know what to do or are too scared to do it?”
“Both.” I admit. “I know I need to unload a few things, that I say yes to too much. I know what I am supposed to be doing, but I’m not putting my priorities on the top of the list. I’m not putting first things first.”
“You know, a car like this runs well. It’s a good engine but it’s meant to drive. It can serve in other capacities when you need it to such as a place to sleep if you’re homeless but that is not what it is made for. You can do it for awhile but it feels uncomfortable if you do it for long. A car is made to drive. What are you made for?”
“Writing. I know it’s writing. I love to put words on paper. It feels like painting. I also love being in that place of prayer with another as a spiritual director. I feel ‘in my place’ when I do those things.”
“But you haven’t been. Why not?”
“Busy. Not willing to take the time, to sit down and share. Some days I feel I don’t have anything worth saying.”
“But you always do, eventually. It’s not yours alone you know. Your gift is meant to be shared. The car is meant to be driven.”
“Yeah.”
“Is this the noise?”
“Yup”
“Ah. You know, there is a difference between what need to be done and what is just getting done. What needs to be done will help your car run like it is supposed to. What is just getting done is what comes up which may or may not be what the car is made for. Understand?”
“I think so. So all those little things I think need to be done may or may not be what I actually need to be doing and the things I am made for are not even on the list.”
“Exactly.”
“That is rather disheartening.”
“Why is that?”
“Because most of the things I do feel like they need to be done!”
“Try it this way: make a list of the things of top priority to you. Keep the list short then do those things. All those other little things will either go away or you learn to say no to what does not fit. You can only fit so much in the trunk of the car.”
“I’ll give it a whirl. So what’s wrong with the car?”
“The hub assembly, rotars, and brakes all need to be replaced.”
“How much is that going to cost me?”
“More than you could ever pay, but there isn’t ever any charge. Just do me a favor okay?”
“Okay.”
“Do what you were made for. I made you to be you. Stop trying to be everything else.”
“Thanks God.”
Pulling back into the parking lot, God turns off the car and gives me the keys. As I walk around to the driver’s side, he wraps me in a big hug which he knows I need. As he heads back into the garage, I am left standing by the car, wondering why I ever wait so long between visits. Then I take my seat and look at the steering wheel, smiling at the note he’s left. “God was here – Come back soon!”