Thursday, April 12, 2012

And the Sign Says...

I feel as though there are always signs to chose a different path then the one you are on. Like if you are driving to visit your sister in North Carolina and you get 45 minutes into the drive and realize you forgot your wallet, maybe that means to go back and stay home instead of adding an extra hour and a half onto your trip to turn around and get it. But you ignore the sign so you get the wallet and start the trip over again.

Then about an hour and a half into your trip going 80 mph on Interstate 85, your car completely shuts off. You pull over to try and figure out what to do, carrying your kids away from the car because it shakes violently every time a car passes and you have visions of a semi running into you. A man who speaks little English appears from the wooded lot behind you, he is followed by two puppies who now you are trying to hold them both and your two kids from running into the interstate. He somehow fixes it, you have no idea what he is saying. You just know that your kids are chasing a rooster in the wooded lot behind you as you stand there trying to hold two squirmy, dirty puppies back from an unfortunate death as the man tries to tell you in broken English what is wrong with your car and you would probably not even understand if it was in English. He replaces a part of your car that he happens to have in his house. He says it is okay to drive, you drive away.

However, you are starting to regret not having read the sign to stay at home. You scare your family with threats you may have a panic attack and you feel as though you are in bad dream (there were roosters on the Interstate, if the boys were not to confirm this I thought I was hallucinating). A worried brother-in-law arrives to meet you, your engine smokes, the car dies again on the Interstate. A tow truck arrives, my blue Ford Explorer who has never let me down, rides away in shame. I am too shaken to cry.

Despite my anger at myself for maybe not seeing a possible sign that things were going to go drastically wrong, good things did come of this story. My family helped me out immediately and my brother in law drove WAY out of his way to get me. Our friends who live in Durham picked up our car at the car lot where it was towed and moved it to another garage they use. My mom drove me back to Richmond and then there was the man who helped me on the interstate. He did say in broken English, "My wife see children. We help you." What ARE the chances of his house being directly behind the woods of the exact spot I stopped and that he had the piece I needed for my car. (It was an alternator, if anyone knows cars, which is a piece not many people keep in their garage.)

I suppose I can walk away from this being angry and frustrated that it happened, or I can feel blessed to have family, friends and complete strangers come to my aid. I choose the blessings.

Here are some photos from our few days at my sister's house. Despite the insanity in getting there, my boys ADORE their cousins. Hearing them laugh and watching them play all week was worth the chaos in getting there.

Love & Light,


The appetizer Cheyne made. YUM!

The cousins plus two neighborhood buddies.

The Greensboro Grasshoppers.


Jaxon and Nolan

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