If you’re a person who often hears things like, “I’ve never seen that happen before,” or “If it’s gonna happen to anyone, it’ll happen to you,” or “There’s never a dull moment around you,” then I’d like to welcome you to my world.
I laugh at myself and with others, but not at others. Having said that, I’d like to share my past weekend with you. I was at my neighbor’s house on Saturday when the thunder began to roll and the sprinkling started. Outside we went, to roll our windows up. About an hour or so later, I got into my car to leave and realized that I’d left the ignition on. I’ve not been stranded in years. My neighbor had jumper cables, so I was soon on my way.
I had planned on going to town later to buy gas and a baby gift, but I never made it.
The following day was Sunday. I got into my car, but the gas gauge was below empty. I drove to the “top of the rock,” but unbeknownst to me, they were closed for Sunday School. So I went into a panic. The tank was so close to empty that I figured I’d run out of gas going to Phil Campbell. I prayed all the way there.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, when I pulled into the gas station, a car sitting in front of the pump I needed had its hood in the way. I waited while my gas fumes were dwindling away. I got out and looked, and luckily there was about a foot of space between us. That was all the room I needed to get close enough to put the nozzle in the car.
I went inside to pay for gas and a cup of ice. Guess what? The ice machine was empty. The attendant brought a scoop of ice to fill my cup. As she walked away, I turned the cup over and spilled my ice. She came back with more and filled it again. By then, I was thinking these were signs telling me to just go back home. I then paid for my gas and left. Literally, I left.
Without pumping any gas.
I got into my car, poured my hot Mountain Dew into my cup of ice and started to leave. I heard a loud noise that sounded like I’d run into the side of the pumps, and I was dreading getting out to see the damage I’d done to my car.
With my heart racing, I made myself look out the rearview mirror. There was a hose sticking out of the gas tank. I jumped out in panic, and there lay the hand pump on the ground literally detached from the nozzle.
My cousin picked it up, smiling. This is one of those rare times when I wasn’t smiling. I kept saying, “Have I broken it?” He said, “I think it just needs to be screwed back together.” After hearing that, I took a step forward to do just that; then I hard my conscience telling me that was the last thing I needed to do. I’d done enough. I agreed and then went back into the store.
The attendant was so nice, but I wonder if I may have detected fear or frustration. I pulled up to another pump, flustered and already ten minutes late for church. All went well. I now had gas and a cup of Mountain Dew and was on my way to church. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot at church, I let out a big, “Thank you, God!”
It turned out to be just one of those days. A day where my friends “laughed with me.”
