When I first received the car, it was complete, but barely running. In my adolescent enthusiasm, I promptly took it apart, intent on overhauling it myself. I was full of dreams, and the future was full of possibilities. In the discomfort and ugliness of my young life, I took refuge in owning a T-Bird, and the wonderful possibilities that fact implied. As you might expect, rebuilding this car proved to be beyond my skill and resources. I didn't have a secure place to keep it, and parts began to disappear... first minor ones, then more significant ones. The frustration and disappointment became oppressive. My dreams were crumbling before my eyes.
34 years ago, as a heartbroken 19 year old, I sold this car... which was of course no longer running and now missing many parts. For most of my life, I have considered this to be a personal failure, my first real taste of bitter disappointment.. I sold it to my uncle, who kept it for a few decades virtually untouched, then gave it to his son. After another few decades, my cousin also found it burdensome, and recently asked me if I wanted it.
Today (6 May 2011), I brought this same car into my garage. I'm still exploring how I really feel about that. The car is poorly primed, missing many critical and expensive parts, with a stripped and ugly interior, no seat or upholstery, lots of rust, and is generally just an ugly hulk. The expense and effort of repairing it seems overwhelming! In many ways, it represents the state of my own soul, a victim of neglect and apathy, existing through the decades without a purpose. What does taking on this project really mean to me? What does God want to do with me as I embark on this?
I've been having trouble getting the comments to work correctly. If this posts, then it's working. Thanks for your patience!
ReplyDelete-Rick
Rick,
ReplyDeleteGood summary of the car's history and an interesting metaphor for your life. Which parts of your life are worn out and abused, and which part are just missing?