How I met my Lola
My mom spotted her on an advert courtesy of Arundel Auto in the online classifieds at a price I could afford if I stretched just a bit. I met her on a totally random Monday morning when I had just finished night duty. I was looking forward to my week off after yet another frustrating ride paKadoma, a VIP reserved seat, if I hoped to get home in decent time to rest considering where I caught my kombis.
Back then I would not sleep a wink during my shifts all week saving my best sleep for the day time. This earned me quite a bit of respect with my colleagues at work but those mechanical days are over (that’s a testimony for another day … now I have accepted the sweetness of a “tea break” to make it through these long, cold 12 hours). So I got home on that fateful morning and off we went to meet the prospective newbie.
Beautifully beat up and bruised
Lola is about 20 years old and she has seen better days. Her ice-creamy mint green paint is badly weathered and she’s got a couple of visible dents too. When my not-having-slept eyes met her we connected instantly despite how rough around the edges she seemed. There was something about this little Vitz that said she was mine and her name was Lola. She had character even before we had met and her imperfections felt familiar to me. A sale agreement and some other bills later I was the proud owner of my first car.
I think back to that feeling of pride in my new accomplishment, this little newbie was the most valuable thing I had ever bought. She wasn’t my dream Range Rover Sport in White but she was proof that I could set my mind to something and achieve it with lots of patience and support.
It makes me wonder if God maybe looks at us and thinks “this is my precious So and So with cuts and bruises in their soul, displayed for sale to a world with under-valuing tendencies and rusty with a self-fulfilling prophecy of doubt that has eaten away at their hope for better days.” Then the pride of having formed us for Himself takes over. A father’s fierce pride that says “touch not my anointed” a pure pride that is sincere and just.
As 2015 progressed I began to feel the pinch on my pocket from the upgrade. Gone were the days of getting by on a collection of 50cent coins and the occasional cab. The funny thing is that as much as I criticised vemakombi about this I also became complacent and joined the procrastinator’s club delaying repairs until the car couldn’t move. In some ways this is a classic example of how we treat each other sometimes.
It could be based on stereotypes of both men and women but for whatever reason we hit some kind of ceiling, I mean at the start its fantastic but then other things set in and the us we can’t know until life really hits us comes out. After a while we start to feel that we shouldn’t still be apologising to each other after an argument or making an effort to be fresh for each other not to mention care about the little things that drew us together in the first place. We think it should be a permanently well-oiled machine because we said “I do” not realising that “I do” was only the first part of the sentence (this one is a whole sermon for another day..)
Vehicles of salt to the earth
Anything worth keeping has to be maintained. It needs frequent servicing and checking for squeaks, leaks and diagnosing in good time to avoid engine overhaul. What’s interesting to note is that it is actually the smallest components of the engine that can completely destroy it or lead to very expensive repairs. In this engine the “I” component is particularly troublesome without correct handling. We seem to suffer from anx”i”ety brought on by the pr”i”de of thinking that we’ve got this.
We are beat up and bruised on the inside parading as premium luxury vehicles but just turn the key in the ignition and see the black smoke fill the air when the bitter truth comes out of our exhausted exhaust pipes. Never mind fuel because Lord knows we’ve been hording coupons and the last time we actually used one was forever ago. I bet someone reading is thinking they know how I’m going to end this message…we’ll see LOL.
Anyway, I took Lola pasi pemuti in good faith and unfortunately it turns out my faith was misplaced because though these friendly guys really wanted to help they didn’t have the correct means to diagnose and repair my littu green machine. My objective was to save on the cost of doing the most advisable thing, which was to go to Toyota which would cost me an arm and a leg but would actually do a lasting job. I’m currently dreading the diagnosis process because there are a couple of things that need repair but I am going to bite the bullet and do the right thing this time.
This experience just got me thinking of God’s trust worthiness. Suddenly it made sense that He isn’t looking for executive vehicles or trying to manipulate the broken down ones with small print. He is looking for humbled jalopies with shocks missing, no filter, door needing a bit of a slam to shut, oil smudges, worn wheels, Sean Timba cracked wind shields, fan belt squeaking, chhhhrrrrrr to start kind of models. Because He is the only certified mechanic who has the right tools to find and repair lost souls having mechanised to make them in the first place.
He is a happy buyer who parted with the highest value to have you Lola. He wants you to wear your broken heart like a new coat of paint because only those who know pain can be released from it, wear your rejection like new Continental tyres because it will give you better grip on the road of life and finally bring your sputtering starter to Him because he will ignite those spark plugs in you that overshadow your imperfections and add just the right amount of salt to the Earth. You are a rare brand of jalopy and only your carbon footprint can impact the atmosphere as it can. So here’s to polluting the air with wholesome goodness.
Soul-ar powered by the Son