Gas on Good Friday

God locked me out of my car tonight while getting gas. All that separated me and my keys, phone, and wallet was a window. It could have been cinder blocks, but God thought it’d be more humorous if I could see my life’s possessions inches from my face but out of reach.

No, there wasn’t a magnificent hand from the clouds that shut my car door behind me. Of course I locked myself out. (Accidentally.) But God had sovereignty over it, just as he tells which winds for the dandelions to surrender to. Any moment he pauses my little plans is a reminder that he has a far better blueprint rolled out on his royal table.

I still freaked out inside, and maybe kicked myself for such a silly mistake. I’m not the clumsy brother after all. So I got the clerk inside the Circle K station to help me out. She was wonderfully nice, dialing every number I needed and handing me the shop phone. The police wouldn’t offer to jimmy the lock, and then the locksmith said it would roughly cost $80-100 for his service–steeper than usual because it’s Good Friday.

Then I remembered I had parents. Mom and dad! You only live, like, 50 minutes away and have my spare key!

Waiting almost an hour for my dad to come to the station, I searched my thoughts outside. Then I searched for my phone, remembering it was locked away. I went back to my mind and prayed out loud. Did that lady see me talking to myself? Then I looked for my phone again, wanting to call my girlfriend or write down a song idea. Stop and enjoy the calm. You don’t need to be distracted.

For thirty minutes I just sat curbside, a buzzing highway behind me and a florescent British Petroleum sign in front of me. People came and went, pumping gas and washing their cars. A young couple made out quickly at the pump (Why?), a scary looking dude held open the door for a beautiful black family, and most cars coming through held only one person. A colony of ants were distributing food among each other below my feet, and further underground were probably thousands of gallons of squeezed dinosaur juice that will soon propel aluminum wagons upwards of 80 mph. Life is weird, but it’s also numbing. We forget to just stop.

What’s even weirder to me is that the one who created life did so just because he wanted to. Those people, with all their scars, give him joy and sorrow. He cares for those ants. How small! The darkening sky above me? Dude, he painted that for us! Fossil fuel? Actually, I don’t know how he feels about that. He did create the sun and the winds first.

I need to stop more often. I don’t have 24 hours in any given day, I’m given them. I’m just glad he gave me one to sit on concrete, stare at people, and praise him for dying on our behalf 2,000 freaking years ago! Good Friday indeed.

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