Hubcaps & Providence

A tan Grand Marquis.

That's what all the cool kids drive, right?

Not only was I driving my dad's car around campus, but now it had a flat tire.

Whatever chance I had with the ladies (which, let's be honest, was zero) vanished. I had never been cool. But this? This solidified it. It was out there for the entire world to know. I could fool no one.

My dad didn't raise a punk - so I got out the tire iron and the jack.

It was hot. And I picked one of the only gravel lots near Mizzou's campus.

Within no time the car was jacked. I was ready to take off the tire.

But here's the thing - I never drove a car with such glorious and fancy hubcaps. I never thought about it, but the hubcaps were really important to the look of that car. Whenever a grandma buys a tan Grand Marquis to cruise to doctor's appointments and bingo night - she wants those fancy hubcaps. It says, I tip extra at the beauty shop. It says, I've got name brand candy in my purse. Werther's Original for the win!

The hubcap stumped me.

I looked all around for a screw, a bolt, a logical opening, a place to pry. I didn't know how to take it off.

I also didn't have a cell phone to call home and ask. I went to college in the days of answering machines.

So I did what any determined, desperate, crazy person would do.

I spent the better part of an hour beating the hubcap to death with the tire iron. When I got done it was mangled. It was destroyed. It could barely be recognized as a hubcap.

I was soaked in sweat from the first semester August heat as I secured the spare.

Done.

I called my dad after. I think he was choking back laughs when he said . . . "there's a hubcap key in the glove compartment."

Me versus the hubcap.

It's a picture of how I try and pry open the doors that God intends to shut. I almost always try to claim control and live on my own terms. I want His will to fit my own instead of surrendering fully.

When we first got Jude's diagnosis, the most difficult thing for me to accept was that no amount of determination, hard work, attempts, or time could change her. I got a dose of reality. I'm not in control, even when I want to be or think I am.

There are some important doors that have shut for me recently. Doors I want desperately to pry open. Doors that a younger me would have busted out the tire iron to mangle.

With Jude's diagnosis, my view of the perfect life had to change. I'm so glad it did.

And I'm thankful to God for providing what I need when I'm convinced of what I want.

God please close all the doors you need to.

Just don't make me drive a Grand Marquis.