He opened the truck of the car to lift out the spare and then he saw it, or rather he didn't. The jack was missing. He'd removed it some weeks before and had never returned it to the car. There he was, on the side of a deserted, rural road in the darkening evening without the one tool he desperately needed. He looked around him looking for something, anything he could use. There was nothing but empty fields as far as he could see. Frustration growing, he searched through his car again. The jack was nowhere to be found. The man stood up, leaning back against the side of his car trying to think what he could do. Then, just as the dark of evening settled in to night, he saw a light across the field. It looked as if there must be a house that he hadn't noticed in the dusky light.
It would take several minutes to walk to the house since it was at least a half mile away. The man started walking, a bit of hope opening in his mind. Perhaps the person or family in this house would have a jack he could borrow so he could change his flat tire. As he walked along, a pebble worked it's way into his shoe. Ouch! He came down hard with his heel onto it. He had to stop and remove the tiny tormentor before he could continue toward the little homestead.
He began rehearsing what he would say once he reached the door. It would be simple enough, he'd just introduce himself and ask to borrow a jack so he could change his tire. But what if they didn't have a jack? "That's silly", he thought," just about everyone has a jack of some sort." The pebble really had bruised his foot. Each step hurt. "What if they wouldn't even open the door? What if they have a jack but it's all jammed tight with rust? I'll have to spend all sorts of time just trying to make it work. These people are so far out in the middle of nowhere, they're probably still riding horses."
He turned up a narrow, dusty driveway that led to the house. He heard a dog begin to bark. "Oh, great, they have a dog. It sounds like a big one. It will probably tear my leg off before I can get to the door." He trudged through the thick dust to the front porch. He could see peeling paint in the warm glow coming from the window. He could see that his shoes were now scuffed and dirty. His pants were dirty and his formerly crisply pressed shirt was sweat soaked. "They probably won't even let me use their rusty, old jack," he grumbled. He stomped up to the screen door and banged on it angrily.
A startled homeowner opened the door a crack to see who might be pounding on his front door. The traveler spotted him quickly and yelled angrily, "I didn't want to borrow your rusty, old jack anyway!" and then he stomped away back down the driveway.
I've been looking over our family schedule for the next few months. It's a bit overwhelming. There are meetings each week. There will be some sort of club activity or event for my sons almost every Saturday through May. Sometimes I feel like life is managing me instead of me managing my life. Sometimes I find myself looking to borrow a jack. I've been quietly becoming more and more disgruntled as 2014 drew nearer because I knew the respite of autumn was about to be at an end and barely controlled chaos of winter, spring and early summer were about blanket my weeks. You got a jack? Well, I DON'T want to borrow it anyway!
I snapped yesterday. I was grumpy and really couldn't hide it any more. It was always just below the surface of a reply that came out a little to sharply or a door that closed a little too hard. That should not happen.
I'll be damned if I don't get over this. I'll be damned if I don't see this busy schedule for the blessing of opportunity it really is. It's an opportunity for my sons and me to develop leadership and time management skills. It's an opportunity for us to learn. It's a blessing to be able to participate in activities with other motivated youth and adults. I'll be damned if I don't recognize and accept such blessings with the gratitude they deserve.
