Things got kicked off Monday at basketball practice when someone tipped a basketball into my face. My face was fine, that wasn't the problem. It was my glasses. The lens popped out and suddenly I could only see through one eye. They were unfixable, so I got out of practice early and drove home holding a lens to my eye, which, if you didn't know, makes depth perception pretty difficult. I haven't almost hit that many mailboxes since I learned to drive an electric scooter.
The next day, I went to our eye doctor's and they were able to fix the lens partly so it at least stayed in. So I drive to school and have no problems throughout the day, until the drive home. I was going through a double roundabout when I first heard it, or, more accurately, didn't hear it. The truck didn't catch its gear for a moment and wouldn't accelerate, so I laid off the gas and kept it slow. I figured it just had a bad moment and would be fine. Two stoplights later, the truck completely died when I tried to accelerate and the power steering went out. I kind of rolled to a turn off the main road and to a complete stop in one of the sketchiest parts of Kennewick. I play baseball for one of the most ghetto high schools in the state, so I don't get particularly freaked out in situations like this, but at this time I was actually a little scared. Just a little, mind you, from the guy staring at me in his wifebeater paired with the giant dumpster directly to my right in which I could be disposed in. I would have offered him my car expect that it was broken down. I ended up just locking the doors and avoiding eye contact.
There were several minutes to do nothing, so I texted some people and asked for prayer before trying to start the car back up. It turned over and began the two-mile drive to my house. I thought we'd make it home but the problem was in getting up Cascade hill. If I was Frodo, this was my Mordor. If I was Nemo, it was my Darla. Leading up to the turn on Cascade, I accelerated as much as possible. It puttered to 32 miles per hour and I started to think the truck would actually get the job done. Then I reached the turn and, just before taking it at full speed, was forced to an abrupt stop by an oncoming vehicle. Barely avoiding the use of an expletive, I looked in the rearview mirror and found a woman following me onto Cascade. The truck barely accepted first gear as we trudged on at close to ten miles per hour up the hill.
This was the first time I thought we weren't going to make it home. The truck sensed my doubt and suddenly died. I again lost the steering and all power, this time with a woman driving right behind me. I quickly resumed the emergency lights and pulled to the side with the little momentum we had left. Eventually I got within half a mile of the house before a good neighbor and a good friend helped me tow it home.
Two days later, Thursday night, I went to a worship concert with a baseball teammate and didn't know words to any of the songs. Suddenly the events of the week began to fit a puzzle in my mind. I realized that God knows what's happening and wants me to lean on him, because I never know what comes next, not even the next words to a simple worship song. Even if it looks like Mordor is right in front of me, God's got it all under control. I don't understand. And that's okay.
Love people.
Your friend,
Jacob
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