I had big plans last weekend. You see, next week I begin working on my final project for my Master's Thesis. I anticipate being a little overwhelmed once that gets started so I had set aside Saturday night to do one last night of hard-core scrapbooking! 4pm - Midnight at the church would get me at least 15 pages done.....
Todd offers to take care of the girls. They head off to a LLCC basketball game on their "date", and I pack up my things...all of my photos, papers, cutting tools, stickers, a snack, and a drink with my Sonic Ice! I get almost to the stoplight at Rt. 29, and the car dies. I can SEE the church from there....just within reach. I work to start the car, but with little success. 3 minutes go by.....5....12 minutes......finally I decide that if I can push the car through the light and across 29, I can park it, walk to the church, and worry about the car later. I get out and try to push and steer, but realize that the slight incline I'm on is making it impossible to get any momentum.
All this time, I've been sitting very close to a busy intersection in my small community where lots of people know me. No one stops. I have my blinkers on - the international signal for distress. I'm obviously trying to get my car started. People politely drive around me. People from my church. People who are going to the scrapbooking crop. Finally a guy who saw me trying to push my car stops and asks if I need help. We decide to roll the car back down the incline and park it on the street. If I want to scrapbook, I have to lug about 3 loads of crap across Rt. 29 to the church.
I decide to walk home. I didn't cry. I wasn't distraught. But boy, was I mad. Ugh.
At this point, I should have some nice, spiritual observation about how sometimes God changes our plans....or about what I learned about myself.....but I don't. I'm still a little frustrated.