Our aging van, a hand-me-down purchased from my older brother, needed a repair we couldn't afford. At 200,000+ miles, the end wasn't unexpected, but I was sad to let it go because I'd rather drive an older car that needs an occasional repair than make a monthly payment. We thought our broken-down ride was headed for the junk yard, but the mechanic bought it from us instead for almost nothing and - lo and behold - his brother (also a mechanic) resurrected it in his backyard. Imagine my surprise when I see our old van delivering sandwiches for a super-speedy sandwich shop, pulling up next to us at a stop light, waiting in the same drive-thru lane, or taunting me at the gas station looking better than ever.
Occasionally, its new owner delivers sandwiches to hungry folks at church, pausing just long enough to offer an update about the flagging health of our mutual motorized friend, other junkers he's working on, or news from the neighborhood.
Ours is an unlikely relationship - brought together by a blown
head gasket and roast beef on whole wheat. He's not particularly wowed by me or my work at the church but I am routinely impressed with his ability to diagnose and repair what seems beyond hope. New life comes in surprising ways.
How wonderful to be so differently gifted - mechanics and sandwich makers and pastors all have something valuable to offer.
Do you have any unlikely friends?
Occasionally, its new owner delivers sandwiches to hungry folks at church, pausing just long enough to offer an update about the flagging health of our mutual motorized friend, other junkers he's working on, or news from the neighborhood.
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