dents
On Saturday, Carl and I trekked across the city to drop off one of our cars for an appointment, “longer than anyone wants to wait”.
After a few hours, we made the boomerang trip back and I lazily waited while Carl went into retrieval mode. From the confines of my seat, I heard a thud and felt my legs jiggle. I swiveled my neck towards the driver’s window to witness the steady red brake lights of a large SUV towering above our car.
I jumped from my position, circled the side of the car, and encountered the face of a distraught driver. She voiced her apologies quickly and intention to find a place to park her car. I could only nod and turn to fetch my phone.
In the middle of a busy parking lot, the intersection of the service department and sales lot, I stood alone as the traffic of other cars and people walked past, unaware of the collision. I kept lifting up on my toes and swirling about to try and find the driver or the vehicle.
Minutes crept by and I could not locate her. I felt certain she had decided on a hasty escape. Then I heard her voice, relieving my suspicions. Carl drove past wearing a quizzical expression. We made all the necessary exchanges of information and expressed our mutual understanding.
This isn’t the first time this car has been backed into. The first was in a high school parking lot causing our son plenty of emotions as a fairly new driver.
That scenario required collective communication from two sets of parents to understand the insurance ramifications of reporting purely cosmetic damage.
Perhaps this is why the two of us didn’t react in anger or outrage.
We have been dented before.
We will be dented again.
Cars require regular maintenance and we can do everything possible to ensure they run in pristine order but scratches and dents happen.
A car will never be without blemish even with a full repair.
The vehicle will now bear a record of work completed to bring it back to “like new” condition.
If we are honest, we each want our stuff to remain mark-free.
We all want our lives to be mark-free as well.
It’s been a difficult week.
On Friday, a close friend of ours passed into eternal rest. Her vision to run through fields of yellow buttercups to meet her Savior was achieved, the sight took her breath away.
This has been a passage of time with so many bumps, bruises, and dents. It has felt much like sitting as a passenger and being hit out of the blue. There is the impact, shock, and aftermath.
I have often resembled my Saturday self of raising up on my tiptoes, trying to see, trying to make sense of what has just happened. I have tried not to panic or believe I have been left, abandoned with dents intact.
I am slowly learning that for every collision in life, every dent, with every unexpected or unimaginable loss, I am held.
I am held despite the fact of bearing all these dents.
There is a record of sorrows.
Lest I forget, there is also a record of joys.
How often those joys are interwoven with sorrow.
Sometimes joy and sorrow arrive close enough to lay on top of each other, occupying the same space.
There is One who holds it all in His hands.
I don’t have to submit to having the dents pounded out or painted over.
Instead, I let myself feel the jarring effect of the dents and know there is no price that can fully erase the damage.
I let myself be held.
I can turn my ear and listen hard enough to hear a voice behind me, telling me I am not alone nor have been abandoned.
Whatever dents you bear or if you feel like solid steel has run straight into your life,
I pray that you feel completely and utterly held by One stronger than your deepest sorrow.
To my dear friend, Mary, fellow lover of ladybugs,
Thank you for being my friend. I will never forget a single facet of the offering of friendship that included gifting your friends to me. I will think of you in so many places but especially on the patio at Edgefield’s and always on the birthday, you shared with Carl.
No one could extend hospitality in the way you did in so many unique and loving ways. We will never forget how you celebrated Courtney’s entrance into marriage at great expense to your physical well-being. Your love of God and deep commitment to prayer will always be worthy of emulating.
You were a lover of words like me. Although you were unable to write many of the pieces you longed to describe, you always read every word I wrote and cheered me on, such a selfless gift.
I am so relieved you are no longer held in a body too fragile and sensitive for this world and you have now beheld your sweet Savior. I hurt for those who miss you, especially your beloved Tom. We will see you again, of that I know for sure.
For now, I will continue to scout out ladybugs for both of us, those tiny messengers who reminded us of God’s presence, always 🐞
