It was a cold, nasty, rainy morning in early November 1997. My forty minute commute to work up I-85 was taking a lot longer than forty minutes. Atlanta drivers and rain. Bad combo. Really bad.
As if that wasn’t enough to fuel my foul mood, my car – a 1981 Chevy Citation – was coughing and sputtering and making terrible noises that weren’t the normal terrible noises sixteen year old cars should be making.
Oh, God, please! Not today! Not in the rain! Not on the expressway! Please! Just get me to work!
What difference did it make? Break down here. Or break down in the parking lot at work. The parking lot would at least be more convenient. But either way, a breakdown was surely coming. Breakdowns meant repairs. Repairs meant money. Probably lots of money judging from the sounds I was hearing ..... AAARGH!!
And that was that.
The dam broke, the tears flowed, and sitting alone in my car in the pouring rain in bumper-to-bumper traffic on an Atlanta freeway on a cold November morning, I had a meltdown.
Okay, God, I want a new car! Not a “new to me” car. A NEW CAR!! A car that nobody else BUT ME ever drove! And I want it to be red ... yes, a RED car! And I want intermittent windshield wipers! And a rear window defogger! Bucket seats ... I want bucket seats! HEATED bucket seats! Heated LEATHER bucket seats! Power windows! I want power windows! ... etc., etc., etc.
I don’t know if God ever rolls His eyes when we pray ...
Well, I suppose I can’t say that was actually praying. It was venting. It was ranting. But maybe not praying. Whatever it was, I’m certain He was rolling His eyes. Had there ever been a time in my life when He hadn’t taken care of me?
He didn’t say a word. He just let me rant and rave and get it all out of my system.
I made it to work okay that morning. Never broke down. No expensive repairs.
I forgot the whole incident.
He didn’t.