Tip of My Iceberg

She’s been more trustworthy than I could have hoped for. Consistently available. Doesn’t require a lot from me.

Which is good because I rarely give her much of anything.

Just a little gas now and then.

My car will reach 190,000 miles sometime this week. A milestone, to be sure. She’s been a great little car.

She looks like a piece of–how do I say this delicately–crap. Seriously. A little piece of poo on wheels.  The “bet-she’s-been-through-the-sewer” look. A BMW without the W.

Beastie is my car. Looks are deceiving. Never a lemon, she’s always run well.

This week, though, has added insult to injury.

While at work, she was unnecessarily attacked by large birds with huge digestive issues.

That or I’ve got a whole new perspective on bird flu.

Upon seeing the aviary racing stripes on my car, I was disgusted. In a hurry to get to another appointment, I hopped in and tried to use the mister to wash the poo stains off the windshield.

I was mister-less.

I drove on, peering around random ploppings on my windshield. After a bit, I didn’t even notice they were there.

I got stares. It was a preponderance of poo.

That was a few days ago. The poo remains.

I’m not sure why I haven’t taken the time to wash it off. I’ve had opportunity.

I just didn’t want to do it.

I worked around the issue. It wasn’t a problem.

I refused to let it be one.

I’d gotten used to looking around the poo. Not a perfect solution, but it was a solution. Easier than getting cleaning supplies and making it go away.

Or waiting for a good rain.

I can have that “la-de-dah” attitude about life. Especially if I’m at fault for something and don’t want to deal with it. Or apologize. Just wait for it to go away.

It’s amazing what discomfort you can live with.

John has traveled a lot lately, and more times than I can remember, we get into a “discussion” before he leaves. Surprisingly, I want to have the last word.

It’s not always a nice last word.

He gets in the car and takes off, and I feel miserable. I fight with myself because I know I should call and apologize. Because of what I’ve said.

I don’t want to.

So I wrestle with my inner snark, which always finds value in what I’ve said. That it wasn’t that bad.

My arguments on my behalf don’t make me feel better.

I break down and call and apologize for my comments. He’s always ready to forgive.

It feels better to just do it.

Jesus calls us to healthy relationships. Where we don’t stew over our anger. Building mountains out of molehills in our heads.

Cleaning up the mess–before it gets hardened by time and sun–isn’t easy.

It takes humility. Owning my wrongs. Seeking forgiveness.

Not looking past the problem and living with the discomfort.

Cleaning up the mess?

It’s restorative.