From One Parking Spot to the Next

Today after enjoying lunch with Chris and Matt at the China Cottage by Apex, I began backing out of my parking spot as usual when I heard the sound of metal striking metal. Just as I was backing out of my spot, a lady came flying into the parking lot and hit me. Being as how I was backing out guess who’s at fault? Regardless of the fault, I pulled the car forward and the lady whom I collided with pulled her car into a nearby parking spot. As I drove forward I heard something dragging. I got out of my car and sure enough, there was my bumper; it was attached to the lefthand side of my car, but the right side was dragging. There was a pile of rust and random bolts/etc on the concrete behind my car.
Oh boy. Came my thoughts.
Then I looked at the lady’s car. Her front passenger door was nicely dented in. Looks like she won’t be having any front seat passengers for a while.
Keep your cool, Monica. These things happen.
Matt pulled his car around the parking lot, preparing to leave (Chris had already left) and much to my blessing, Matt looked back. Matt pulled up alongside of me, turned his car off and got out.
“What do I do now?” I asked Matt. See, I’ve never been in an accident before, but I was smart enough to realize that insurance people needed to be contacted, so I was holding my insurance card.
Matt coached me through the affair and even went to meet the “less happy” lady with me. The woman spoke no words to me other than verifying information off of my insurance card. All other words she spoke to her friend, whom she was meeting for lunch. After exchanging info, the lady left and Matt shoved my bumper back on (or at least temporarily). Matt offered his car as a shelter from the wind while I called my Dad and the insurance company. After getting off the phone, Matt followed me home to make sure that my bumper would not fall out. I called Kelly to try to get directions for back-roads to take back to Wright State, but she didn’t pick up. So, then I phoned Andi Hill to try to find a quicker route then I knew. See, I was doing ok until Andi asked why I couldn’t drive on the highway. I choked back my tears as bravely as possible. Focus on facts, Monica. Focus on facts, not emotions. I worked myself through the potential breakdown.
I arrived safely home. Praise be to the Father alone because in all honesty, there’s no reason that my bumper should have held together. And as I drove down Zink Road, Matt told me after I pulled into the parking lot at my apartment that he was watching the right side of my bumper begin to fall out and was praying down the whole road. He shoved the bumper back in again and then offered his own car for me to drive to work tomorrow as opposed to risking it with my own car. We discussed whether insurance would cover me driving his car, etc, but couldn’t come to any solid conclusion. So, it was resided that Matt would speak to his father about the whole situation and see what would be best.
“Could I bother you for a bandaid though?” Matt said politely. And at once I remembered his bleeding finger from his initial efforts to replace my bumper. His pants were now stained with blood, but he brushed off the issue with gentleness; “I’m sure it’ll come out; but if not, they’re only pants. I can buy another pair.”
I did well, I managed to keep my cool and focus on tasks. I gave Matt a hug [Thank you again, Matt. Sincerely, thank you.] and I kept it all bottled up until I shut the door behind him. Then the tears came.

It’s just another reminder that my treasure will forever be in heaven.
[Not to allude that my car is something I treasure. But again, it’s all that I have been given.]

I don’t know how this situation is going to figure itself out between the insurance people and the repairs of my car and all, but I trust that the God that has provided for me in the past will provide for me in the future. I have to trust that fact. That’s the only thing I can cling to. Afterall, a lot can happen from one parking spot to the next.

The Right Time

I received these verses at the end of a recent email:

There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven– A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing. A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace.
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
All I could think was; how often had I tried to uproot before planting or tried to gather before first throwing stones. I was thinking about how there indeed is a time for everything and it’s so easy to use these verses to support our own lifestyle choices, but what if we choose to do some task during the wrong time? What if we choose to run after something when God is clearly saying, “It’s not time for that right now?” We run after peace, but the war is not yet over. We jump to hate when we are first called to love. We seek to sew together when God says, “the tearing apart is not yet complete.” What then? Where are we then?
Maybe we’re further from God. Cause just maybe if God’s calling us to remain in the war or the love or the state of throwing stones or the mourning or the dancing or any of these things then maybe it’s because that’s where God is. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying God is not everywhere. But I have found that sometimes when God calls you to a place it;s because He wants to reach down and be closer to you in that exact spot. It’s like when you call a friend on the phone. You both can talk just fine over the phone and you both can enjoy sharing your lives with each other, but there’s something more personal about standing in the same room as a friend. Sometimes words are not even needed or cannot be found. Maybe it’s like that. God’s standing in the place of war, the place of love, the place of dancing and saying, “come here, just come hold my hand.”
Dare we remain or go? Dare we listen? Dare we obey? Dare we?
There is a time for everything. And if we are seeking His will, there’s a right time indeed.
Patience, weary ones.
Patience.
The time will come.
And just maybe it’ll be better than you imagined.
=)

just words. so few. too fast. but So High




these are just words and are not enough to contain You
Jesus, just words could never suffice to acclaim You

Father just words,
and i have so few
i run out too fast to speak them to You
Father just words,
and i have so few
i run out too fast to speak them to You

You are indescribable, You are beyond expression
i run out of words for You,
i can’t speak that high
so hear my spirit groan in me
a painful sense of urgency
to tell You that You are to me
So High

A Special Blessing

Today God sent me a special blessing. This morning at work I was a bit annoyed and frustrated at the usual “motherly” (picking up after everyone) tasks that I had to do in order to get my job started. It kind of started my morning off on a bit of a rough note and I was pretty discouraged. After speaking to my manager, I felt a bit better since I had actually shared my frustrations this time and done it as tactfully as possible. After drying off a bit (long story) and getting all the pick-up tasks done, I started about my regular routine. That’s when God sent a special blessing.
“Monica! You have a job shadow.” Sarah yelled at me from the front of the store.
“Great… I’m already way behind,” came my Ebenezer thoughts. “Oh well,” I shook it off. “Maybe I’m not supposed to finish all my work today. You can only do so much.”
I headed up to the front to find a familiar face. It was Cassie, she had shadowed me about two weeks ago for a high school project. Now Cassie wasn’t like all the other job shadows that we got at Pet Supplies Plus. Cassie actually #1. cares for animals and #2. WORKS! So I found it quite a blessing to have a friend to talk to while we completed my allotted tasks for the day. Cassie willingly worked hard and her smile and sweet personality was quite encouraging.
So, thank You God for your special blessing today.
You are so good to me.
I love You.

A Rat Tail Tale

Today at work I assigned myself the job of cleaning out the feeder tanks in the stock room. The feeder tanks are nine aquarium tanks [7 ten-gallon tanks and 2 forty-gallon tanks] full of either mice, pinkie mice [baby mice], Siberian dwarf hamsters [because they multiply faster than mice], and rats [of various sizes]. Now, usually it’s my job to clean out these smelly prison chambers on Fridays, but being as how I was sick last Friday and apparently no one else in my work works, I found myself cleaning out these tanks to avoid having to do the Tuesday/Thursday animal department person’s jobs all day. [Can you gather a slight sense of disapproval of my work environment? Ok. I’ll stop with my frustrating complaining now. Breathe through it.. breathe through it… Ok, I have managed to shake the days stresses from my mind. Now, I can just tell you the story for the story’s sake. See… I can already tell that you are much more comfortable sitting there in your stiff computer chair. Ahhhh, yes… so relaxed you are.]
So, back to the story… I was cleaning out feeder tanks and was nearing the end of the row. Now, the stock room where these feeders are housed is not necessarily the warmest of places. In fact, there is no heat in the stock room at all, so when the huge truck delivery door at the end of the long, skinny stock room opens to receive stock, the frigid winter air is vacuumed in; it creates a wind tunnel type experience. So, these poor little feeders are freezing and often pass their days huddled together for warmth. [Don’t I paint such a pathetic picture of these little feeders? And yet I hypocritically am the one who feeds them to our snakes and our lizards. What can I say? That’s my job.] So, since these little critters are freezing, I tried my best to find little animal shelters (wood boxes) and extra warm bedding for their tanks. Alas, after six hours of spray washing, water filling and bedding fluffing, I found myself at the last tank. And that tank was none other than [cue the scary music] the rat tank. Now, normally our rats are not so psychotic as they are on this beautiful winter morning. See, our rats have recently just popped out babies since the super annoying male rat in there finds it his personal life goal to repopulate the world one rat mom at a time [or some twice]. So these moms that would otherwise be kind, playful, sweet rats [well… sorta] are turned into mean ferocious people killers. [Well, maybe “people killers” is taking it a bit too far, but I have been bit before for simply changing the food in the tank.] So as you can probably imagine, I was REALLY looking forward to changing the rat bedding this afternoon [heavy on the sarcasm here].
I grabbed a big shovel [no, I wasn’t going to bash them over the heads] to distract them while I grabbed their tails [the best way to pick up unfamiliar rats] to transport them into a box while I cleaned their tanks. It worked quite well for all but one rat. See, this jumbo rat was the most recent rat mom of nine baby rats and I had taken two of them this morning for another lizard’s breakfast. AKA… she was not a very big fan of me.
I tried my little shovel technique on her and nearly got bit twice. [Yay fun!] Then the third time was a charm and voila! I got the rat mom out of the tank. I was congratulating myself in my head when the mom began swinging. Now, let me explain something about swinging. Rat swinging has nothing to do with a back and forth motion of an ordinary park swing. Rat swinging begins much like a two year old’s tantrum with the body flailing, but then turns into a psychotic tire swing-like motion of spinning. I moved a bit quicker toward the box and in what felt like hours I looked down to see the rat’s lower third of her tail rip completely off and the mom fell into the box. I held the third of the tail for a brief second before dropping it and nearly throwing up. See, here’s the bad part. I had the outer section of the tail, but the inner section of the tail? Guess who still had that? You got it! The Mom!
VOMIT!!!!!!
So, I had another girl come get on a glove and pick up the rat mom so I could dip the remaining section of her tail in this stuff that would stop the nasty bleeding. The girl who was holding the rat mom got bit through her CONSTRUCTION glove by this furious rat mom. And… Ugh….. that was just enough that my stomach could handle for the day. No more biting… no more bleeding… Ugh! Monica had reached her max and stepped outside for some air.
Eventually, I finished cleaning out the tank and then I was faced with another problem. How in the world am I going to get this rat mom back into the tank? My manager was kind enough to come and face Jaws, the wonder rat mom, so I did not have to move her. [YAY SHANNON!]
Ugh… my stomach is still churning as I remember the story. But, no fear… it does bring me great comfort to know that you too, my faithful reader, are out there suffering with me. [LOL. Sorry. I couldn’t resist sharing.]
And that my dear friend is what I call one nasty Rat Tail Tale.

Toes and a Blow Dryer


Was talking to Kelly on the phone earlier tonight. She is always a joy. We were laughing and carrying on like our regular hooligan selves and out of nowhere she said,

“My toes are cold.”

Next thing I hear? A blow dryer.

“Are you kidding me?”
“What?… My toes are cold.”
I laughed. “Most people with cold toes put on socks, but leave it to Kelly…”
“I am wearing socks.” She cut me off. “And shoes…”

– Laughs encompassed the next few minutes of our conversation. –

That girl cracks me up!

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