I had just started a new job earlier this month. It has been an immeasurable, humongous praise of a job for me, which I am so immensely grateful to God for. Hallelujah!
The job was the outcome after having finished my couple of Associate’s Degrees this past May (remember all of those many, many homework and paper writing gripes that I had made last year? Haha!).
But after only a couple of weeks of working, oh, may God forgive me for my becoming lax and gripey all over again. I’ve been groaning about the 4:45 am wake ups, the sleepyness that comes over me when at 10am, and the constant tummy groaning at that same hour.
And what’s the brand spankin’ new gripe of the week? When a 3-day old (hunkava truck) Dodge Ram had hit my parked car at work in the parking lot earlier this week.
Because I’m a terrible driver myself, I totally understood how the other driver had felt. No problem, I had said. It happens and I’m just grateful that it wasn’t me who hit you, I had said. I’ll take it to the auto shop when the weekend comes around, no problem, I had told him. But that’s all before I had heard the crazy grinding and bam! bam! sounds coming from the front of my car as I was driving home after work. Oh no!
I drove it to my friend’s house who lived on the way home. Her husband used to be a mechanic before retiring from his job just about a month ago. I hoped he would help to tie or duct tape my car part temporarily (from falling off on my drive home) until I could take it to an auto shop on the weekend.
When he checked out my car, though, as I had expected, he said that my car was better off left at home and undriven until I can take it to the auto shop on the weekend. So I drove it home with its griding and bam! bam! sounds coming out of it every time I had hit a sizable pothole on the road.
So I had had my car parked at home until yesterday, when the other driver’s insurance adjuster finally said that he had finally taken a look at my car and of course, he said that the damage looked minor. You haven’t driven it and heard the banging sounds comin’ out of it, buster, I wanted to say on the phone.
I was just relieved that I had finally gotten a hold of him because I had been calling the other driver and his stateside insurance company constantly since. The problem was that Guam time is about a day ahead of the stateside hours. So a decent time over there would be around 3 am over here.
After days of trying to get a hold of anyone to talk to about a rental car for me to get to drive to work with, the late night phone calling (or lunch break time calling), had taken a headache toll on me. So that’s when the griping and less and less unthrilledness about my new job was starting to come upon me.
But finally, today is the weekend. I had slept until 9am (yeeee! talk about refreshed!) and I am sippin’ on a cup of instant coffee. Before I knew it, I was on the Ziiing! level. I have returned. My jig has come back. Yeah!
As I sit here typing about my huge blessing of a job, I re-appreciate it gratefully once again. Sure can’t wait for that first paycheck! Woohoo!
Although my car rental is still on my credit card bill until that dagnabbit insurance adjuster gets around to sending his coverage notice to the car rental company, I’m not gonna let it bother me. I thank God that He had opened my eyes up this morning. While I was brushing my teeth, all of a sudden, I had realized that the enemy was most likely trying to steal my joy with this whole car accident thing. It was like a window opened up.
So now I’m once again thankful to God for all things with new eyes. Thankful for my fantabulous first time ever weekend off job, my car finally being looked at an auto shop, my refreshing longer amount of sleep this morning, my cup of coffee that helped to put me in Zing! mode, and the sunshine outside, so that I can bushcut (attack) the knee-high grass that had grown all around my house outside.
Thank you God for showing me that life is good because You are good.
Oh, and I wanted to end this post with sumthin’ that I had gotten a kick out of yesterday. One of my co-workers’ last name is Mission. He’s from Hawaii and has 2 sons. He had shared with us other co-workers, that if he were to have a daughter someday, he’d name her “Iona”. That way, she’d be called Iona Mission. I on a mission, get it? Haha! What a riot, that fella.