Saturday. Thought the day might end at a Christmas concert. Instead, it ended at a used car dealership. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
It all started by saying, “Yes,” something I had just read about that in Chapter Nine of Bob Goff’s book, Love Does: “I used to think you had to be special for God to use you, but now I know you simply need to say yes.”
Kate had texted earlier in the week and asked, “Could I come up and stay with you to look at a car this weekend?”
“Yes! And we’re happy to help you with the car hunt.”
And so Saturday unfolded. First, a not-so-great option with a bumper issue and door handle issue and clutch issue. . . . Then John and I and Kate regrouped, did some research, had some food (what I always recommend in times of stress), and headed to a used car dealership to look at another option.
We shook hands with the salesman and introduced ourselves. “I’m Kate. “ John and I hesitated a bit. How do we explain our role in this unfolding drama? We’re not parents. Not Aunt and Uncle. Not Grandparents. “We are Kate’s friends.”
That makes me smile.
Kate’s mom was one of my college roommates oh so many years ago. A Storm Sister. When Kate arrived here for college. John and I welcomed her into our home, complete with a nickname: “Kate the Great,” and Kate accepted our dinner invitations and wacky humor and dog who licked her toes.
And so on Saturday we found ourselves sitting together at a used car dealership. We test drove, a car, sat around a table to negotiate, had an inspection done, ate some popcorn. . . .
And I felt soul-happy.
Helping Kate seemed like just a tiny pay-it-forward to someone who befriended me years ago and gifted me with his wisdom, direction, and joy.
“I see. I care. I’m doing something. I’m sending Jesus.”