for driving convertibles.

I’ve always been a four-wheel-drive, mountain-loving-kind-of-girl who lives out of her vehicle and hauls people and furniture around like it’s my job.

So, when my Jeep of 12 years finally bit the dust, the one of road-trips and first-kisses and driving away from the town and house that helped build me with tears in my eyes as I made the trek to Georgia, to say I was heart-broken is an extreme understatement.

I cried and stomped around like a small child, offering to pay all of my Brothers in beer and pizza if they could just put it all back together just this once I PROMISE!

But I had known the time was drawing near. I mean, the friendly people at AAA knew me by name, which is equal parts embarrassing and impressive.

And perhaps it was really my fault for not having it inspected as soon as it started to shake and make weird noises. That is, after all, poor vehicle owner stewardship. Essentially, the transmission fluid had all drained out, and getting more fluid could’ve helped to alleviate the problem. But let’s be real…if it wasn’t this, it would’ve been something else soon. 

So I did what all good Jeep parents do:

I had it towed to the nearest shop and generously taped a sign in the windshield that read, “Only serious Jeep lovers need inquire. Honest, hard-working, cleanly individuals who will wash me at least once a month and check my tire pressure on the weekly and utilize my sunroof to look at the awesome sky as much as possible.”

I’m kidding.
But that’s what I really wanted to say.

Instead, I made a sign that reduced its priceless value to as low as possible, and added a note to ensure people knew its fair condition and need for a new, costly transmission that they’d have to sell a kidney to afford.

Hardly anyone called, and those that did were not all that serious. They’d change their mind in the middle of our conversation and hang-up. “Oh, the travesty!” I thought.

Meanwhile, God humbled me. He told me this was another small step in learning to depend on others. So I swallowed my pride and asked for ride upon ride from people in my community–to work, the grocery store, the post-office–mostly to all of the necessary places.

And I did so for over three months. At first, I’d grit my teeth, but eventually, I learned to receive and simply be grateful. Sometimes people would even offer without me asking, and I began to know that I knew that I was provided for.

It struck me how I’d taken a vehicle for granted all of these years, always having a way to get from point A to point B without batting an eye-lash, and never offering any hitch-hiker a ride, because that’s far too dangerous and I’ll die, I said.

I realized I’d always been so focused on my own needs, and rarely even offered to go pick people up at the airport which is over an hour away. {We’re a bunch of missionaries who are always flying in and out and around the world, so the need is great.} If I’m honest, I think my fear was people not paying me back in gas money or even saying thank you. Besides, it was so much time out of my day.

Then, enter a gift from my Father, who gives the greatest gifts to His children.


A brother in my community was headed down to Guatemala on a mission for three months, and he prayed long and hard about who to give his vehicle to for use while he was away.

Through the confirmation of others, God told him to give it to me.
I didn’t even know he knew I was car-less.
But in hearing God loud and clear, He obediently handed me the keys.

Yeah, that’s how I felt.
Maybe especially because I was learning how to depend on and accept gifts from men, which has always been difficult for me.

Now, this car wasn’t just any car.

It wasn’t an old clunker that he was happy to get rid of. No, it was a beautiful, deep blue convertible, for crying out loud, with tan, leather seats and a stereo system. It was special to him, a gift from his grandmother. And I was absolutely dumbfounded and blown away.

God likes to pull-out-all-the-stops, if you ask me.
He is so patient with our lackluster, mild-at-best affections.


He says He’s good to those who wait.

He likes to surprise us and woo us and give us reason after reason and reminder after reminder that He is good.

Before handing over the keys, my friend Ryan prayed over both me and the car.

In his prayer, he addressed e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g  I’d cried-out to God about. EVERYTHING. He told me God sees me and knows me, never as second best, never choosing me by default, but as His first choice every time. And He never overlooks my requests, no matter how big or small, but instead addresses my needs as they arise.

It must seem silly and maybe even a bit pretentious to think God could prove Himself through material things, things like a convertible.

But I want you to know that is the very God I serve.
He is good regardless of the things He gives and regardless of our aches and pains.
He’s just GOOD.

And He alone is why I’m still banking on a beautiful, warm day where I can ride with the top down and wave to everyone I pass with pure joy, offering rides and knowing that I am a child of the Most High.

If you’d like to learn more about and support my friend Ryan in his mission in Guatemala, a country and people near and dear to my heart as well, you can do so here

If you’d like to learn more about my Jeep that is still for sale, email me directly at:


4 thoughts on “for driving convertibles.

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