So Long, Old Friend

This whole thing with the badly battered Buick has been sticking to my soul. I couldn't scrape it off to save my life. I was worried about how Fran would get to work now, how we'd get groceries, how I was supposed to make my church meeting on Thursday, how we were going to make it to Santa Barbara for our lovely free getaway that Frannie won by being the top sales rep this past month, and how we'd afford a new one. I was worried that these worries would distract me from my job, which is demanding enough to require 100% of my attention. 95% simply isn't good enough.

My heart pounded as I turned on my computer, warning me of the impending doom that surely awaited. But as soon as I entered my password and logged on, the pounding ceased, and the sick sticky sensation melted and evaporated into thin air.

How did this happen?

Last Friday, I had downloaded Katie's picture of all the grandkids on the steps of the Bailey abode at Willow Bend and set it as the "wallpaper" on my desktop. Their smiles, tiny toes, and gleaming eyes appeared on my monitor as soon as the password cleared, and completely set my mind and heart at ease.

After all, what's the worth of a '97 Buick when compared to children's smiles, tiny toes, and gleaming eyes (although I must say, 'Ol Blue was as a true a friend to man as any car I've ever known...)?