Thursday, July 27, 2006

Trust Me, Trusting Him Matters

So, yeah, I'm a woman living alone. And yes, I did get burglarized recently. And, quite honestly, there are nights when I would love to know that someone was going to call and check on my status . . . not out of obligation but simply because there's a bookmark with my name on it in their mind's "favorites" file.

But for the most part, I spend my life feeling safe and secure and loved. I even like to share out of the bounty of all that and enjoy helping carry others' loads when I can.

So when that position of "readiness for whatever" is threatened, even slightly, and it's personal, not someone else's crisis, well, I find it hard to breathe. At this very moment, I'm having trouble with the whole concept of inhaling.

I just got word that I broke a strut on my car. Clueless as to whether I even spelled that right, what I know is that one pothole yesterday afternoon is going to cost me more than $600.


Do I have the money? Yes. Do I wish I didn't have to spend it on a car when there are so many folks I'd like to spend it on other than myself and my day to day needs? Absolutely!

But you know what makes this slightly better? I trust the guy who called and told me that my car was in need of some immediate special care. I trust this whole operation. They make it their business to take care of their customer's concerns . . . especially women. There's no discomfort when you walk into this place. The manager knows my name. I still have to look at their coveralls and the stitched in names to remember who is who. But without benefit of even a peek at his records, he was chatting with me and ready to make sure I had my car back at the "ideal" time.

That was, of course, before the discovery of "the strut".

While some may suspect that as a strong, self-sufficient, divorced woman, I might at times be a man-hater. The truth is that I'm not. While I primarily work with the male population and specifically with pastors, I don't hold men at arm's length, in distaste, tsk-tsk-tsking their every move. But I know that there are plenty of guys who say what they need to say in order to get what they truly believe they need/want. So my eyes are always open.

And yet, I trust my mechanic.

Go figure.

Now how does that go again . . . ? inhale . . . exhale . . . inhale . . .

1 comment:

Finding the Happy said...

breathe in
breathe out
breathe in
breathe out's as if it happens all by itself.