Small Blessings
Eric and I are learning a lesson in sharing. About a year and a half ago, our second car, a 1995 Honda Civic that I had owned before we got married, gave up the ghost. Since that time, we bought a little Melex golf cart, thinking that since Eric had only a two- to three-mile drive to school, it would be a perfect solution in our little golf community. Well, we knew nothing about golf carts when we bought this little guy, and it was already well-loved when it fell into our care, with worn-out seats, scratched-up windshield, and antiquated batteries (we later discovered, the most expensive thing on a golf cart), so this little speed demon bullets close to 10 or so miles an hour. On busy mornings it’s not the Batmobile my husband is looking for. In addition to its snail speed, it’s not exactly a warm vehicle, so compounded with the slower-than-molasses-going-uphill-in-January speed, a 30-degrees-fahrenheit drive will make any sane person second-guess this method of transportation.
So, needless to say, we have been sharing our 2003 Toyota Highlander for the past year. The golf cart was an ideal idea (isn’t that what all ideas are?), but it only gets picked maybe once or twice a week. So the sharing concept has reverted us back to first grade; we’re even good examples to our daughters who are at that prime sharing age.
Him: “Can I take the car this morning?”
Me: [whine] “But you just took it yesterday; it’s my turn today; I need to get some things in town” (and yes, we really do call excursions to Victorville “going to town”).
Him: “But I’m running late, and I need to get to work early today for a staff meeting.”
Me: “Okay. I can put it off until tomorrow.”
It’s been a good lesson for us. Not only have we learned the art of sharing all over again, but we’ve learned some additional lessons in simplicity, economy, and contentment.
For the next few weeks, though, my parents have taken off on a 40-year-anniversary trip to Europe and have left us one of their vehicles. I must admit it’s been rather nice having a car at my disposal any and every moment of the day. I feel a little less like a hibernating groundhog and more like a human with freewill. It is a few weeks to thank God for small blessings.
So, needless to say, we have been sharing our 2003 Toyota Highlander for the past year. The golf cart was an ideal idea (isn’t that what all ideas are?), but it only gets picked maybe once or twice a week. So the sharing concept has reverted us back to first grade; we’re even good examples to our daughters who are at that prime sharing age.
Him: “Can I take the car this morning?”
Me: [whine] “But you just took it yesterday; it’s my turn today; I need to get some things in town” (and yes, we really do call excursions to Victorville “going to town”).
Him: “But I’m running late, and I need to get to work early today for a staff meeting.”
Me: “Okay. I can put it off until tomorrow.”
It’s been a good lesson for us. Not only have we learned the art of sharing all over again, but we’ve learned some additional lessons in simplicity, economy, and contentment.
For the next few weeks, though, my parents have taken off on a 40-year-anniversary trip to Europe and have left us one of their vehicles. I must admit it’s been rather nice having a car at my disposal any and every moment of the day. I feel a little less like a hibernating groundhog and more like a human with freewill. It is a few weeks to thank God for small blessings.
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Kate