Toyota Archives - Lisa Colón DeLay

I was loving this post by Doug Jackson. There are times when I read very good writing and a joy fills my soul. Today was one of those times, and so I thought I’d share an excerpt and entice you to enjoy the rest of it at the link below.

(the image is of a fishing boat from Palestine in 1st Century from in 1986, and nicknamed “the Jesus Boat”)

Thursday: Messing About in Boats

excerpt:

I thought about my car, a quarter-century old Toyota Corolla of indeterminate color and inelegant pedigree. It isn’t quite as long or wide as the Jesus Boat. Dog hair flecks the threadbare upholstery. A neighbor told me he always knows when I head for work or return home by the choked grumble of my engine. It is small. It is old. Is it also an opportunity for the mighty works of Christ?

And, of course, if this is true of that disreputable beater I drive, it is also true of the disreputable driver. A tiny life, a fool’s motley of patchwork parts, unshrunk scraps that have pulled great gaps where unwashed wisdom met threadbare experience. Throughout my days I have tinkered with the finicky mental mechanism, duct-taped the physical dilapidation, rerouted the spiritual wiring and generally tried to get ‘er to crank over for one more commute. One of these days the thing will flat refuse to run and the cankering rust won’t hold up to bolts or solder. I’ll just shove the whole concern into the high weeds and walk away. ~Doug Jackson, from Israel

Read the rest, I implore you! HERE

My son, as many of you know, is autistic. Change is very hard for him. He exemplifies what many of us feel at times of change, but in the extreme.

On Saturday, when he was away at a therapy program, we had to scrap our Toyota Paseo of 13 years. It was 17 years old, ran well over 169,000 miles, and finally the engine went.

Nathan had wanted to clean and fix the car (himself), and when he saw it was gone, it broke his heart, and he cried a broken-hearted cry for quite a bit. Yesterday, at breakfast he sang a song, of mourning,

“I miss you Little Car. I miss you so much. I miss you Little Car, I do…”

We salvaged the license plate, and he was happy for this. He colored two pieces of paper similar to the color of the car, and had Tim, my husband, attach the plate to it. Today, he took it to school to show his class, and tell the tale. It seemed to bring some closure for him, even as we discussed these plans.

Even though change is inevitable, it seems to me that some ritual is important to journey through change. Nathan is a good teacher. He feels things very deeply, and sometimes his tenderness, even towards machines, reminds the rest of us, that bonds can grow tight, and separation hurts the heart. It’s not something to just “get over,” but rather something to swim through, like mud, sometimes.

Below are some pictures of Nathan’s friend, and our family transportation for the last 13 years, The Little Car.