- He backed into our little car (you know, that's how we refer to things here) and didn't even know it because he drives so slow.
- He has a ton of accumulating scratches on his back bumper where he adamantly claims that other people have hit him. Imagine that.
- He is deaf as a doornail. Even with his hearing aids. In the car, crowds, any where there is background noise, he can't hear worth a fart (my dad would say, pardon my french).
- Lastly, the first time the sweet lady at DMV said, "Grandaddy, you cain't see those letters. I'm sorry, I cain't give you your license unless you can read 'em. You'll have to take this form to the eye doctor and have 'em fill it out.", he exclaimed to me, "Well, I couldn't read the d*$@ letters the last time and it doesn't matter if they give it to me or not, I'll just drive to the store anyway." I admit, that ticked me off
a little bita lot. What if some blind, deaf ol' coot backed over top one my kids in the Food Lion parking lot? I bet grandaddy'd have a lot to say about driving without a permit then!
Then, we were off to the dreadful DMV. Shoot me now! I pleaded inside my head. We sat and sat and sat there some more. I was already emotional, and somewhat irritated. I hate it when people that come in after you, get to go before you. Does this make sense to everyone but me?! This made me even more cross and I began to fidget. I swore that if any of those clerks even batted an eye at me the wrong way, this God-fearing woman would come across that counter before they could blink an eye, rip their head off and punt it like a football all the way to Minnesota. I swore it. Now, that's very godly, wouldn't you say? I think not, but anyway, I was havin' a moment and the devil was havin' his way with me.
Once out of there, I drove home as fast as illegally possible, dropped off my grandad and parked my butt for awhile to decompress. Eventually, I wound down, things were OK and I even accomplished a couple of things, but boy, it was a morning in the face of adversity.
I have since prepared a pumpkin cheesecake for the reunion tomorrow, soup for our fellowship at the farm tomorrow night, and have one apple pie left to make. I picked up and straightened a few things and I do mean a few, but life will go on. Tomorrow, the sun will rise on a brand-new day, filled with God's promise and maybe this feeling of having a ping pong ball stuck in my throat will go away. It comes with sorrowful moments. You know, when you'd like to cry all day, but you're holding it back. In Chapter 3, David Platt says "that God is indeed sovereign and that in their suffering he may actually be plotting their satisfaction." Hmm, now that's something to think on, wouldn't you say? God is still good. ThankyouJesus.