Props to my mom today.
My check engine light came on in my Jeep on Tuesday. My friend told me about a good, reasonable mechanic that would take me to work, too. So, I decided to visit this mechanic the next morning in the midst of my crazy schedule. Then, I remembered that Autozone has a service where you can have them read the computer readings for your car (instead of $70 or so the mechanic can charge you).
Autozone checked out my car and gave me four different possibilites for my check engine light being on. The only one that was most probable was a disfunctioning catalytic converter--which kind of sounds like a pacemaker for your car or maybe a way to upgrade it to a cadillac.
I called my mom on the way to the garage and she told me to just put some fuel injector cleaner in the gas tank, and I should be fine. So, I did it. And today, the check engine light went off. Praise God! And thanks to my mom for her diploma from the Hoopty Car School of Hard Knocks and Strange Noises.
On a more serious note, I had prayed that God would help be my mechanic and car advisor. It's hard not having a dad around (or a mechanically inclined husband) to give me car advice (although my dad was a much better 1040EZ advisor than a mechanic, but he did his best).
One of my favorite college memories is when my dad had to come help me with my unstarting car. He did a cool move where he poured gasoline into the carburator to get it to start. My mom was there assisting, and then had to use her favorite pink cardigan to get the flames to calm down that were shooting out of the engine from my dad's cool trick. At the end of the display, we figured out that I just was out of gas. The look on my dad's face was priceless. Praise God that he also gave me a very calm, patience-of-Job father.
Seven years ago today, I stood outside Vanderbilt hospital waiting for my aunt wearing my black hooded jacket. It was about 45 minutes after my dad had died. Or maybe not 45 minutes. Time becomes irrelevant in those situations. My mind was reflecting on how the doctors had swarmed the room trying to revive him, and then talked to my family in a special room about probable causes (a blood clot from having cancer).
Kind of ironic, that seven years later, I work in the medical field and today sat in a meeting at the same time of my dad's death seven years ago sitting amongst doctors again, but this time they are kind of like colleagues, discussing their education and experiences. Who would've ever put me here?
God heals hurts. And he heals hearts. And he heals catalytic converters.
God is good.
My check engine light came on in my Jeep on Tuesday. My friend told me about a good, reasonable mechanic that would take me to work, too. So, I decided to visit this mechanic the next morning in the midst of my crazy schedule. Then, I remembered that Autozone has a service where you can have them read the computer readings for your car (instead of $70 or so the mechanic can charge you).
Autozone checked out my car and gave me four different possibilites for my check engine light being on. The only one that was most probable was a disfunctioning catalytic converter--which kind of sounds like a pacemaker for your car or maybe a way to upgrade it to a cadillac.
I called my mom on the way to the garage and she told me to just put some fuel injector cleaner in the gas tank, and I should be fine. So, I did it. And today, the check engine light went off. Praise God! And thanks to my mom for her diploma from the Hoopty Car School of Hard Knocks and Strange Noises.
On a more serious note, I had prayed that God would help be my mechanic and car advisor. It's hard not having a dad around (or a mechanically inclined husband) to give me car advice (although my dad was a much better 1040EZ advisor than a mechanic, but he did his best).
One of my favorite college memories is when my dad had to come help me with my unstarting car. He did a cool move where he poured gasoline into the carburator to get it to start. My mom was there assisting, and then had to use her favorite pink cardigan to get the flames to calm down that were shooting out of the engine from my dad's cool trick. At the end of the display, we figured out that I just was out of gas. The look on my dad's face was priceless. Praise God that he also gave me a very calm, patience-of-Job father.
Seven years ago today, I stood outside Vanderbilt hospital waiting for my aunt wearing my black hooded jacket. It was about 45 minutes after my dad had died. Or maybe not 45 minutes. Time becomes irrelevant in those situations. My mind was reflecting on how the doctors had swarmed the room trying to revive him, and then talked to my family in a special room about probable causes (a blood clot from having cancer).
Kind of ironic, that seven years later, I work in the medical field and today sat in a meeting at the same time of my dad's death seven years ago sitting amongst doctors again, but this time they are kind of like colleagues, discussing their education and experiences. Who would've ever put me here?
God heals hurts. And he heals hearts. And he heals catalytic converters.
God is good.
