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    Tears in Rain

    Psalm 45:1

    "My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready writer."

    Galatians 2:20

    I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.

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    Wednesday, May 16, 2007

    Crazy Story




    One Million, Five Hundred and Two Thousand, Six Hundred Seventy Seven

    (It’s Probably True)

    By Robert W. Oakley

    Ever since I acquired a `94 Dodge Dakota from my Grandfather (which was an incredible blessing) and my official license to drive, I’ve been cruising all over the place, but why is it every time I need to go out and do something the thing won’t start? “Dead? Again!” I exclaimed (quite loudly) “why must you torment me so? I have dry cleaning to pick up!” Rrrrrrrr. . . Then a CLICK, CLICK, and CLICK, (say this a thousand times, ten times fast and you’ll know what I mean) this is the sound it continuously made. Now, I understand this happens a lot and to everyone, but when it happens to me, nothing will stop the raging passion for fixing something from achieving his goal (especially a dead battery).

    I went to the garage to fetch the charger, hooked up the power, and switched it to start; 30 amps later . . . three seconds to the ignition . . . 3, 2, 1, and . . . NOTHING! That same CLIKING noise sounded off, and that same pain across my forehead appeared as I banged it across the steering wheel once more. I tried it again, and again, and again, but nothing. Depressed, I was in the depts. Of despair, I took the key out of the ignition, opened the door and headed inside to ask my father for advice. The battery wont charge: so what will I do? Fortunately, my dad still had that `97 Ford Mustang he’s been trying to sell; he told me that I could take the battery out of it until we could afford to buy a new one. Praise God! There is still a chance for success!

    I rushed down the stairs, then back up (I forgot my tools), down the stairs again, and out the door. Quickly I examined both the truck and the Mustang; I thought this was going to be as easy as pie—pie. . . . Now there is a concept. Wouldn’t you agree that cake baking is easier then pie? All right then, easy as cake—this was no walk in the park. Of course, many a man struggles with repairing a vehicle and for that matter, everyone has issues, but why do these things happen precisely when you’d least expect it? Perhaps I’ll never know; then again, the trying of my faith worketh patience; thus, I do have something to gain. Time to get busy, and, if I fail to avoid, GREASY! Well, I guess one could easily say that if you’re hands aren’t dirty to many a respect then it wasn’t work.

    After several minutes of twisting and turning (left loosey) I finally detached the batteries of their original places. No need for the truck battery, I’ll toss that aside; now to hook up the new one. Well everything fits, what’s that? The bolts don’t quite fit, well I’ll adjust that finely; I’ll just take my pliers and, SNAP! NOOOOOOO! Impossible! WHY! O, why must you torment me? The screw which tightened the bolt (which was quite rusty) snapped into two embarrassing pieces. I thought I’d might cry with depression or shout with frustration! Slow to wrath, be slow to wrath Robby. Okay, this is nothing to get upset about; maybe you could find a replacement screw and nut from the Mustang? No, nothing there, well, I’m bound to find something in the garage.

    Painstaking and partially blinded by the sweat on my brow, I searched for my salvation when there it was: the perfect specimen. Upon an old, green, rusted bike I found a screw which played a major role in supporting the bell that once rang but rings no more. “Perhaps I could size it down with wire cutters,” I said aloud then thought to myself what a folly that would be, but what else can I do? Squeeze, pull, and bend, SNAP! After maybe 10 minutes of strenuous squeezing the thing finally broke. Hurray! Now I need to find some nuts. Okay, I didn’t have the greatest luck of finding exactly what I had intended but in conclusion, it worked! And that is all that matters. The sum of small nut, a wing nut, and one modified screw equals one tightened down bolt and one happy trucker.

    I suppose the lesson for today is: never give up, never, never, never! Although many of us will go through many divers temptations, to loose faith, to loose integrity, to give up, would be folly. Surly I say unto to you that the trying of you faith worketh patience. Now the truck works like a charm (it’s that gas that kills). For the longest time the radio failed to entertain simply because it wouldn’t turn on; now, it works every time and I can listen to the tunes without interruption. It’s exiting to find your way through, and although that light at the end of the tunnel is compelling, we still have to watch out for those trains; even when we get smashed, we still have to keep on trekking.

    THE END

    1 comment:

    john said...

    Wow, way to stick with it!