So after a good day spent with my husband driving around in Maryland in the snow (which makes me nervous but he loves it) and then skiing at Ski Liberty since we were close by, we get home to find someone parked beside my car. There’s barely room for Kevin to park the truck and then we notice these three young people laughing and walking around. Couldn’t figure out what they were doing at first, but they were looking for their car. That’s the first sign of trouble. Wait, no, the loud music coming from the apartment two doors over (a new tenant) was the first sign. They were obviously high and oblivious to anything and everything but themselves and their good time. They get in the car (a Honda low-rider), start it up, and proceed to drive forward, launching over our walk and into our yard. I’m right there getting stuff out of the truck and I scream, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Yeah, that was a good witness. My husband, who has much more in the way of the fruit of the Spirit, calmly knocks (okay it was close to pounds) on the passenger’s window to get them to roll it down and then asks them if they are okay to drive. The kid said he thought he was going to drive through gravel, that he could just go straight (since when does grass look like gravel?). He wanted to just keep driving through the yard and out onto the alley. Kevin told him to back up. He had to gun it to get back over the walk, but he got over it, scraping the walk a second time.
So now I have a double reminder of my failure–two ruts in the yard and a scraped sidewalk. The fact that God doesn’t care about either of those things makes it even more acute. Add to that the sound of a siren about five minutes after they left, making me wonder if they had an accident. What matters more, stuff, or people? People, of course. Then why do I have these knee-jerk reactions. ~sigh~ Now’s when I go to God and confess, again, my failure and ask for forgiveness which He gives right away. Takes longer, though, for me to forgive myself, and you can bet your bottom dollar what the accuser will be saying every time I see those ruts, those stones….