Dear Friends,

Two weeks ago, I shared the sad news of the death of my wife, Patty. Last week, I shared where I take faith from Scripture in dealing with death and grief.

I assure you that I do not intend to dwell on these subjects. Today’s message is about a surprising, but healing conversation with an auto club tow truck driver. He came to my driveway with anxious thoughts and I was raw and open with sorrow. The Lord, in his loving kindness led both of us to a better place.
. . .

“Why won’t this blasted key work?”

I am trying to load up my wife’s Honda CRV with some household items to donate to a local thrift store. It is a hot afternoon.

I am fatigued with grief at Patty’s unexpected death and the effort to make sense of the life that I am suddenly living alone after 42 years.

For some reason, I think the battery in the electronic key is kaput, but when I manually open the door and get in, I discover the car battery is completely drained.

That isn’t surprising since the little SUV is eleven years old with only 13,500 miles on it. The vehicle sits in the driveway a lot and that is hard on a battery. I give the Honda factory battery an A+ for making it this long.

So I call AAA. On the same day that Patty died, my wallet was taken and I don’t have a replacement Auto Club card yet. I have to explain to the dispatcher that I am using Patty’s card.

Then I wait for the tow truck to arrive. And wait! The temperature is 104 degrees and the heat seems to stretch the time.

Finally, the truck pulls up and the driver gets out – a nice-looking Hispanic young man with a warm, friendly smile. “Joey” is the name on his uniform patch.

“What’s the problem?” he asks.

“This battery is dead. The car won’t turn over at all and all electrical systems are down.”

“I’ll test the battery and the alternator,” he says.

“I am telling you the battery is done and there aren’t enough miles on this car for the alternator to wear out, but go ahead and do what you have to do.”

“I am really tired,” he says as he hooks up the cables. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I went to church this morning.”

Do I really want to have this conversation?

It is safer to ask about church than the lack of sleep. “Where do you go to church?”

“I go to the Catholic church on the corner of McKinley and Magnolia.”

“That’s Corpus Cristi – I know that church.”

“Yes, I’ve come back to the church. I have a short fuse that I am trying to control. Learning to pray helps.
And I am getting married in two weeks – that’s why I’m not sleeping much.”

“Oh,” I say, “Congratulations! Getting married is a good thing.”

“I hope it is! I want it to be perfect, you know.”

“I was married for 42 years. My wife passed away ten days ago. But we were happy and I have no regrets. I just miss her.”

“I am sorry.”

“Well, I am only telling you because I know from experience that marriage can be happy.”

“Thanks.”

“I need to go get a battery for you. I don’t have one on the truck.”

“Please do — that’s what I want.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“OK.”

Off he goes.

I sit behind the steering wheel of the vehicle to wait. The sun beats down. I leave the door open to catch whatever breeze that may blow through.

Working harder and keeping busy is how I have always handled grief and disappointment. I have been packing up, cleaning and fixing things for the past week. Taking a breather is not how I planned to spend the afternoon.

Everything is a blur right now. Tears come unexpectedly as I come across things that trigger memories.
Thoughts and plans for the future are on hold as just getting through the days and nights proves challenging.

Death eliminates choices. I have unfortunately faced the death of close loved ones before. I know that there is no way around the valley of the shadow. Step by step, prayer by prayer, one just keeps walking, metaphorically speaking.

The driver returns with the battery. He gets out of the truck talking as if he’d never left.

“You know, I am not getting much sleep because I’m worried about getting married.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“I want it to be perfect. But I have this really short fuse. I really try, but I get so impatient. I told you prayer is helping me, but I still blow up. I don’t want my fiancée to deal with that. We’ve been together six years and she has helped me. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“What triggers your temper? I mean, what sets you off?

“I don’t know. When I say something and someone doesn’t get it – well, I really don’t like to explain myself.”
“That I understand. I had the same problem. I was arrogant and couldn’t wait for others to understand where I was going or how I was going to get there.

“I didn’t like to explain myself. But that was my problem, not theirs. My wife helped me to see that. She loved me, but she didn’t put up with my nonsense.

“She’d look me in the eye and say, “I love you, but you are better than this and you need to think. She was right.

“I slowly learned that thinking was the part of the cure to my harsh reactions, but something more is necessary. You need to think about what triggers you and train yourself to pause when it happens, take a deep breath and pray, ‘Lord, take over. I will follow your lead.’

“Just ask God to take over. People will tell you the three key things to do, or the five steps to conquering your temper. I know from experience that trying to beat your anger on your own won’t work.

“Only yielding to God will do it. He is real and he will do it. Pride gets us into the mess; God gets us out of it. Just breathe and pray, ‘Lord, take over. I will follow your lead’ and leave it there. Jesus died on the cross for us. He now lives for us. He will do what I am telling you. You have to trust him.”

Joey was standing beside the front of the SUV. He had the old battery out and the new one in place, but he had stopped working and was listening intently.

“I like what you are saying, but I am just so anxious that my marriage won’t be perfect.”

“Listen,” I said. “As long as you are seeking a perfect marriage, you are going to lose your temper and be angry a lot. There is no such thing as a perfect marriage. What you want is a good marriage.

“The keys to a good marriage are praying together and talking to each other. You have to communicate about everything.”

“You’re talking about keeping the line of communication open.”

“Exactly.”

That’s hard for me. I bottle everything up inside. I can’t say what I really feel.”

“What’s your fiancée’s name?”

“Isabel.”

“Do you love Isabel?”

“Yes. Of course”.

“If you love her, you need to trust her. I was married for a happy 42 years and I learned that I had to trust Patty. I could not do life on my own or even manage marriage.

“We talked all the time and we talked about everything. Every night before we went to sleep we told each other, “I love you.” She told me once, ‘You have never missed telling me you loved me.’

My voice is choking a bit and tears are leaking. This is supposed to be a battery exchange, isn’t it? But I go on.

“Forgive each other. You are in marriage for life. Don’t hang on to anger or leave resentment to harden. Telling Isabel, “I love you,” will soften your heart also. Soft hearts are important in a marriage. Don’t leave her guessing how you feel. Don’t leave her hurting.

“Working at a hospital, I see families all the time who don’t say what they think and feel until it’s too late and their loved one is on life support. Then they can’t make the decisions they need to make because they hope, ‘If we can just keep them breathing a while longer, we can have the conversation.’

“But it doesn’t happen. Then everyone is stressed and in agony for much longer than they should be — and for nothing. Get said what needs to be said and leave nothing for later. Tell the people you love, ‘I love you,’ every day. You will have no regrets if you do that.”

“That’s what I want,” Joey says. “My parents have been married 27 years and they’ve had ‘issues.’ My brother is angry too. He’s an addict. They last time we were together he left me with a black eye. He’s in rehab now.

“Joey, you are on the right track. You can see how others have acted badly and know that you don’t want to do the same thing. As long as you can see the difference, you can live the difference. With God’s help, you don’t have to be like them.”

“I like talking to you, you know. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks for the advice.” He is clamping down the battery now.

“I checked your alternator. It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

I turn the key and the engine starts right up. I give Joey the thumbs up sign and turn the engine off.

We lean over the flat bed of his truck to complete the paperwork. I sign where Joey points and we are done, but not quite.

“Is it all right if I pray for you?” I ask him.

He is startled, but he sees my smile. After a moment he says, “Yes. I’d like that.”

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for your love and kindness to us. Please give Joey peace and bless him and Isabel in their wedding and marriage. Let them rest in your love and fill their house with the spirit of your love and forgiveness. Keep them talking and sharing always. Heal Joey’s temper. Heal his brother’s addiction and anger. Flood their lives and their home with your grace and keep them close to you always. Give them the happiness that Patty and I had for all the years of our marriage. Amen.”

Tears are streaming down both our faces when I finish, but we are smiling. I don’t think I will ever see another auto club guy cry like that! I give him a big hug.

I go back to my chores after Joey drives away. My broken heart received some sutures of grace to start its healing. The life and love that Patty and I shared lives on and that makes me really glad.

“Lord,” I whisper. “Would you really give a battery eleven years of life just to get me to talk with Joey in my driveway this afternoon? I believe you would. Thanks.”

“O taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy are those who take refuge in him” (Ps 34:8).

Under the mercy of Christ,

Kent

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