My last post was on the 8th, which is too long between conversations. That post was about a high school basketball game (sort of), and you may be interested to know that in the meantime, the local high school boys basketball team made the district playoffs. That was a pleasant surprise. What was not quite as pleasant was the result. They were soundly beaten by the higher seed, and as I sat watching the wheels fall off, I began thinking about gratitude.

This morning, our local mechanic called me with some terrible news about my car. I had a very reliable Ford Focus for roughly 15 years that I loved more than a reasonable person should love an inanimate object. So, when it reached the end of it’s life, of course I’d replace it with another, newer Focus. What I could not have known is that the first Focus was the wild exception. Ford Focuses (Foci) are rolling trash cans – at least the later year models, before they were put out to pasture. A basic Google search (which I did not do…) returns a long history of recalls and transmission defects. The terrible news is a price tag that is much too high. In retrospect, this isn’t a surprise, it’s just the latest in a long line of too-high price tags for repairs.

I’m fairly certain it’ll be the last, though. Before I pay another one, I’ll set it on fire and roll it into Memorial Lake. Incidentally, if you happen to be looking for an as-is money pit, I have a Ford Focus that I’d part with for only the remaining payments. Message me if you’re interested.

Now. I’m angry at my poor decision to purchase such an albatross. I’m angrier at Ford for the sick joke they’ve played on me, a loyal customer. (I’ve had only Fords since I was 16; an Escort, Probe, the Greatest Focus, and this current wreck. The Greatest Focus was the only wholly positive experience.) I’m not angry at my mechanic, they’re trustworthy and seemingly sorry for my plight.

Immediately after the terrible news, as I was screaming, alone in my wife’s car, my mind turned to Tuesday’s playoff game and gratitude. The team was lucky to get into the playoffs, the boys are healthy and some of them are quite extraordinary at the sport. Do you know how rare exceptional athleticism is, how this gift is something most people in the world would love to have? Can you imagine what so many would give for the privilege of getting trounced in a playoff game? We are so lucky to go to a school with sports like this, safe travel, parents & fans that can attend. Of course, it’s disappointing to lose, but the real loss for me was my perspective (even if only for a few minutes).

And we have 3 cars. Only 18% of people in the world have 1, 10% of Americans don’t have a car at all. And we have 3. I can pay the too-high bill. I work from home, and got the terrible news as I was driving home from the gym. I took a hot shower, put on clean clothes, and ate breakfast. Samuel is home today putting together a massive LEGO set. I really like him – which is not something to be taken for granted. I have to love him, but he’s really wonderful to be around. I would want him to be my friend, if he wasn’t my son. I’m able to drive the Angel’s car while mine is in the shop, which means I take her to work and pick her up, which is no problem at all. She’s the best, so far out of my league and ridiculously more than I could ever deserve. And I get to kiss her at drop off and pick up.

This is the trouble with gratitude, for me. When the terrible news comes, my vision narrows until I can only see the terrible news. The challenge is to notice this myopia and adjust my perspective, until that period where I am lost is shorter and shorter. I’m not convinced that we can eliminate it altogether, but we probably can reduce the time we check out of our real lives full of blessing. We can compress the disappointment of losing into a few minutes, and then regain our perspective. The Bible says to always be thankful, and maybe that’s a bit much. How about if we are thankful now, whenever now is, so that when we inevitably lose the plot and aren’t too thankful for our rolling Ford Refuse, we can always start again, here, now? And maybe our verse can be “always be thankful, again.”