Car Troubles

Ury, dearest Ury, my first car that I ever drove completely solo - has been ill this week. It started on...well, I think it was Wednesday. I was driving home and was about a block away from the house when he just gave up and died. Literally. He just stopped. Thankfully, Trina was home and she hurried down the street to help me push him home. He turned back on a couple hours later.

This is how the rest of the week went --

• The next morning I drove him to work. Driving through the intersection next to work, he died again, and I coasted into the parking lot which was thankfully right there.
• After work, Stephen and Trina followed me home in Nissa, so when Ury died five minutes from home, we just left him and I walked back to get him later (about a 15 minute walk).
• Trina and Stephen took Ury to Jiffy Lube today, and he died in that parking lot.
• When they brought him home, he died in the garage.

Basically I have an analogy to make to this - whenever you break down, it's a short distance to assistance. Of course that analogy doesn't apply to cars all the time whatsoever - I'm so thankful Ury refrained from dying on big roads. But in life and the gospel it always holds true.

The first time Ury died, I was a short walk away from the house, and Trina was able to rush out and help. The second time, I was weary of problems and was able to keep my head when he died, so I could coast into the parking lot (and then the nice man that worked there tried to help me get him started again). The third time, we were REALLY prepared, my family driving right behind me and ready to pick me up when I broke down. The fourth time, we were fixing the problem. The fifth time, we were home safe.

Applying that to life, mistakes or trials may surprise us, but we're always within distance of assistance - even if sometimes that assistance is the Lord, and the distance is from our feet to our knees. Also, when we're wizened up about trials/temptations/afflictions, we can keep our head and remember what we're supposed to do so they don't surprise us again. And the best preparation is often having your family right behind you - that includes your heavenly brother and father. And then, as long as you're trying to fix the issues in your life, the Lord will always make sure you stay safe.

Also, I'm just throwing it out there, when trials come upon you - it is the best feeling to let others help get you through it. It was a perfectly wonderful surprise when Trina emailed me that Stephen was trying to get my car fixed. And now he is in the garage replacing my fuel pump. I like to think I'm independent, but it's nice to know I don't always have to be. Trials are an excellent opportunity to let others serve you.

...The end.

The Number TWO

I love the number two. Plain and simply. My most favorite number is 22, because it is two twos, which is saying two twice. It's like an eternal amazing whammy. I first started loving the numbers because my birthday is all twos - 02/20/92 -- LOVE it.

And I know the Lord knows it. And boy do I feel special. My old wonderful wards just split into five thousand other wards - and it was tough. But my new ward? YSA 22nd. Yup. As soon as I heard that was one of the wards I thought, "Please let it be me!"

And then I was having a hard night, because I have so many big things to do. My car needs stuff done, my teeth need stuff done, I am annoyed about financial aid. I just feel so ADULTLIKE and TERRIFIED about that. But then I was going to bed, and I read my one chapter of the Book of Mormon for the evening. Oh joy, only 4-5 verses! But it was worth it. And it was, by complete "chance" - the following (note the verse number):

2 Nephi 22:2 - "Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also has become my salvation."

I don't care if someone thinks it is coincidence. Best coincidence ever.

I couldn't be in a horror movie...

I just had my very own horror movie excerpt...thing. Shower scene, lights that went on/off unexpectedly, a large scary man (my brother), and creepy silences. Oh yeah. That was uber fun.

We open on water rushing, steam fogging the mirrors. The heroine (me) slips off her unmentionables and prepares to step into the shower. She hears a loud bump coming from the adjoining master bathroom. She brushes it off, thinking her sister must've gotten home, or it was the cat knocking something over, or her brother using the only unoccupied bathroom. She steps in to the stream of water, starts scrubbing - after checking the door is locked, of course.

The bumping continues, at odd intervals. And not your run-of-the-mill bumps like someone dropping something. These are serious bumps, like someone moving furniture. Our heroine starts to worry. What if they're being robbed? And how perfect - she's naked. Horrible scenarios flash through her mind, but she assures herself that her sister must've gotten home. She hadn't said when she would be back, had she? It shouldn't be surprising.

Still, she feels the need to check. She turns off the water, steps out, shampoo in her hair and her leg covered in soap (she was shaving). She wraps a towel around herself, and peeks into the hallway. Yes indeed, her sister's bedroom light is on. It hadn't been before.

It's okay, she thinks, Don't freak out. She calls her sister's name gently, and there's no response. So, fast as lightning, she dashes down the hall and into her room, grabbing her car keys (and thus her pepperspray) from the bookshelf. Then, taking a deep brave breath, she treads back down the hall to stand outside her sister's room.

She calls her sister's name again, her brother-in-law's, her brother's. No response. But the lights are on. How did they get on? She can just imagine the robber standing just around the corner in the bedroom, waiting for his unsuspecting victim to walk in. She even considers checking - but she's seen the horror movies, and while she is brave enough to arm herself with pepperspray, she isn't horror-movie-heroine-brave (also called stupid). She's not about to walk into the dark basement/attic after some creepy bump in the night (or in this case, into a well-lighted room). Also, remember, she's naked and covered with soap.

So our heroine takes another breath, and dashes back down the hall, fully expecting assailants to pursue. She flies down the stairs - she's going for help. Her thoughts are only of the six-foot-six sasquatch in his lair, and how even if he is a gooey teddy bear on the inside, his exterior will frighten away any criminals.

He's startled to see her only in a towel, who wouldn't be? Calmly, she asks if he had used the master bathroom. Answer - yes. Had he turned on the light? A nod. A sigh of relief, she sags against the door-jam, and the story spills out.

He laughs. He thinks he's the real bee's-knees for scaring the daylights out of her.

And the moral of the story is - don't leave me home alone anymore.