Another Death

           Our Saturn was such a good car and I hated to see it in non-driving, special (and expensive) repair state – especially after all the money we sunk into it.  Brand new tires.  Our cars have a way of getting “killed” right after the tire investment.  So unfair.

          Our Saturn was a very good car.  Outlived its 22 years I think.  We put many  miles on that car going from Utah to Arizona and back.  Climbing hills of Nevada and Oregon.  Roseburg and back.  Medford and back.  Many miles. Over 100,000. 

          In my mind I can hear “taps” being played.  My eye sheds a tear for our beloved car.  I’m sorry that you’re gone now. 

My mom is the Saturn's original owner.  Today is her birthday. Happy Birthday, mom.  Miss you.  Look forward to reuniting with both you and dad when the time is right.

Miracles Have Not Ceased

             Our Relief Society lesson last week was taken from Shayne Bowen’s talk on miracles, angels and priesthood (here).  The same talk was used for one of the talks given during sacrament meeting. An inactive member made the comment that she was meant to be there that day as the message was given twice.  It was a good lesson and I reflected on miracles past and present.  Miracles happen every day. Some are obviously more powerful than others.

            When Jaime was still a baby Richard and I had been called as ward missionaries.  Primary baptisms were done at a stake level, but if for some reason only one ward had youth being baptized when the head position was out of town, the ward missionaries were asked to fill the font.  The font took roughly two hours to fill.

            One Saturday I had forgotten my assignment of filling the font – which normally I did as Richard always seemed to be working.  I don’t even know who called to ask if I had the keys to the stake center.  When I arrived there were about forty or so people waiting outside and I was crying.  The font filled quicker than it had ever done – I’m sure due to the prayers of those who had stood around waiting.  That was a miracle.

            About six months before my mom passed I had taken the car into a transmission place.  I paid for a diagnosis test and learned that fix the damage would be roughly 6,000 dollars.  We did not have that much income or credit.  Fixing the car wasn’t going to happen – and yet I needed something to drive. I prayed over that car more times than I care to admit – before driving Jaime to school, before driving out to see my mom . . . you get the gist. It was the car I drove as Richard used the Saturn.

            Four days after my mom’s funeral I took the Saturn as it was behind.  I knew that Richard had an appointment to take my oldest son to inquire about another car.  I was visiting with my sister-in-law when I received a phone call about the other car – the one I had prayed over each time I left the house or wherever I was at.  The car was dead.  No big surprise to my ears.  I left my brother’s house and returned home.

            The following day my eldest son pushed the car to the transmission place around the corner.  Now, in Utah (in my experience with most dealers in Salt Lake) once you have paid the fee the history of the car is wiped out from the files of the dealer (mechanic, whatever) but in this case the guy not only remembered me but was able to look the diagnostic up.  He asked me how long it had been since I had replaced the fuel pump.  I didn’t even know what he was talking about.  I told him that I hadn’t replaced anything or did any kind of work since the diagnosis six months earlier.

His jaw seemed to drop to the counter as he unbelievably asked, “How have you been driving around all this time?”

“Prayer”

Recently Richard and I went and saw “Unsung Hero”.  It is a remarkable story full of miracles. The filming also consisted of just as many miracles as explained here. So awe inspiring.  All of it.               

         Miracles take place each time I drive or walk out the door and don’t fall as I cross my yard.  Plant life is a miracle.  Cooled down weather is a miracle.  Thoughts shared on facebook that I may read at just the right time.  A loaf of baked bread. 

I am grateful for all the miracles large and small. 

Another Weird Dream

 

         Neither Richard nor I have been sleeping well lately.  He caught a virus due to stress and probably room temperature.  I always wake up hot and he has a pile of blankets.  He coughs.  Bonnie snores.  One or the other of us will leave the room. 

He turns on the TV.  It is ALWAYS loud.  I can’t return to sleep when there is noise.  But somehow between two and four I slept hard.  Really hard.  I know it was hard because I had a nightmarish dream. 

“I had gotten out of bed for something (probably to go to the bathroom) and when I returned my end table and all contents had disappeared.  I remember looking for them in some kind of office building.  That was weird.

“Later on, while in bed I heard a noise and gone to the window to investigate a noise. I saw our car back up out of the driveway.  Surprisingly there had been enough light to identify that it was our car. They must have been the ones who took the end table.  I think that's where I had last seen my keys

“And right behind them was a red convertible with four teenagers – first with expressions of “Oh, no.  We’ve been caught” but then a smugness of “what are you going to do about it”

“We had called the police.  They were on their way but had not yet arrived” when the rain woke me up from my deep trance.  I don’t think I ever returned.  If I did I cannot remember what else happened.  I am surprised at remembering what I did.

Richard continues to come and go not sleeping unless it is in front of the television in a sit-up position.

CBQ#36

 What’s the story behind a time when you got locked out?

 

        I have come up with more situations than I care to admit.  The first one I thought about on Friday when Carolyn announced that she’d be ending the class ten minutes early as the lifeguards have a meeting at 10:00 and would like to start on time without having to wait for stragglers. When class was over, I strongly suggested that Richard get out as it seems to take him longer to dress.

        Carolyn announced to the group that they were welcome to stay for five minutes before taking off.  She started heading to the deep end while the majority of the class headed towards the stairs at the shallow end and climbed out.  I then shared my first story with her.

Story #1

I don’t know how many years ago it was, but my first “locked out” story is not really about getting locked out but rather getting “locked in”.  Normally I don’t change back into my clothes until after I return home, but there are occasions when I change at the pool.  Apparently I had taken that opportunity one Friday just before the lifeguards had their meeting.  Or else I was just taking a longer time in the bathroom or something.  Regardless I had gone to the front door to exit the facility, only the door was locked.  I had to go back through the dressing room and knock on the window in the room where the lifeguards met and interrupt their meeting.

 

Story #2

        When Jaime was a baby I had gone to the store with her.  I don’t know if I loaded her or the groceries first – I’m thinking her.  I had evidently laid my keys in her car seat or had given them to her to play with.  Somehow I had locked her in the car.  I had my cell phone but not my keys.  I called Richard frantic as my child was inside a locked car – though the windows had been rolled down a crack because I do remember a set of people trying to help me with unlocking the door but just weren’t able to reach the lock.

        I would peek in Jaime’s direction and smile at her.  I didn’t want her to sense how frantic I was.  She thought I was playing a game with her and smiled back.  I’m sure it felt longer than it really was.  Jaime was fine but I was in panic mode.  By the time Richard showed up (with the entire troop no less) I was crying.  We set the car seat aside scrimping to find the keys.  It wasn’t until after one of her sisters physically removed Jaime from the car seat that keys were discovered.

 

        I do have more examples of locking myself out of the house. But for the time being we will just stick with two that I have provided.

Orange and Flaming Red continues

        For those of my readers who are unfamiliar with baptisms for the dead, this site will be helpful information 

        I was asked to join a group of ward members to go down to Medford Temple with our newest member.  I had gone with the youth a few times but had never physically been in the font since I had lived in Utah.

        I had ridden in the car with our former RS president and our newest member.  On our way down the car encountered something – though none of us seemed to know what it was.  It felt like a pothole.  Our driver continued driving hoping to make it to the next exit.  Unfortunately the tire lost all air and he didn’t wish to continue driving on the rim.  We were a quarter of a mile from the rest area.

        Fortunately the tire was on the passenger’s side and he managed to remove the burnt mangled rubber that had once been a tire and replace it with a donut.  That is a few many miles to be driving on a donut!  But we made it to the temple when all the others arrived. 

        I hadn’t taken my “Wendy” hair into consideration as I entered the font.  It wasn’t until I removed a towel from around me that I saw large orange splotches and was mortified.  I had orange on my white clothes.  All the while my hair is dripping like carrot juice all over the floor.  Oh, gosh.  I remember only one time when my hair bled after I had colored it.  What was happening?  Ahhhhhhhh!

        This morning I took a shower and realized I had never added the conditioner to my hair after it had been dyed.  Perhaps if I had there would have not been the problem of bleeding out and becoming even more flaming red.

        When I exited the car (a different car than the one I had gone down in) Jaime was on the porch laughing.  I asked, “It’s my hair, isn’t it?”  YUP.  I’d take a picture, but the photo really doesn’t do it justice.

When it Rains, it Pours

            It’s been just over three and a half years since we had made the purchase of our reclining couch and chair – something that had invited comfort in the showroom.  We didn’t realize the furniture had been created over extremely heavy frame that would misshape each time it was moved.  Thus, coming out to Oregon really took a toll on our misshapen couch each time it was moved.  It’s sad that it’s value had depreciated so quickly.  We feel so gipped.  But what can we do? 

We have looked to replace our pathetic couch, but it’s not a priority.  There are two other issues at hand.

            First there is the matter of the car that my mom had purchased brand new, however Roland and I put more miles on the car than she ever did.  We had borrowed it to go on long trips thus it had quite a bit of mileage on it before we had purchased it.  We have worn the poor baby going up and down hill;

I don’t think our car was designed for climbing. 

            Saturn checked the car each year as part of their service.  I don’t think it got as much attention after Saturn went out of business.  It currently needs a transmission.  A car seems more necessary than a couch.  Also, more expensive.  A second car would be imperative.  Of course, it costs much more than a couch.

            And now we have an additional problem.  One of our toilets leaks. 

We don’t from where exactly.  Our carpet was wet and we dried it out, but we noticed the carpet managed to get drenched again after another flush.  So, for now, all of us must use the master bath.  What moron decided carpet in the bathroom was a good fit anyway?  We’ll be contacting the insurance company on Monday to see if we are covered.  We’ll have to cut the carpet out (which had actually been our plan since before we moved in, but still don’t have the finances for) and redo the floor (in addition to plumbing expense) 
           Then there is the matter of medical bills - not even sickness but check-up routines. 

I can't imagine how outrageous it would be if any of us were actually sick or hospitalized!  What a nightmare!

            Oh, the joys!