After an eleven hour work day, Friday, I came home to a voicemail that my eldery neighbor had been taken to the hospital. Her daughter had called to let me know that she was having surgery on her heart this coming Monday. The mother and daughter have been so kind to us and made reference about my touching base when I had time.
So I made it my goal for today, after sleeping in, to pick some flowers and put a goodie basket together to run by the hospital. After a number of odds and ins, I drove off to the hospital. To start out on a poor note, my heart was not into going to the hospital mostly since the visit kept getting pushed back later, later, and later.
I pulled off to the side of the road after taking the exit specified to me, realizing I was not in the right spot. When turning into a nearby parking lot, my secured vase toppled over onto my work notebook spilling water all over the floor of the passenger side... the cute flower arrangement, smashed; the notebook, smeared; and the floor, sopping wet. I dialed Brenton's number, "Is 25A, the Sweeten Creek exit, the right exit headed toward Biltmore?"
"That would be the following exit..." So I headed to the following exit and turned between Mac Donald's and the Grand Bohemian hotel, following Sweeten Creek road that led me straight back to the first exit. I called B again, "Could you please mapquest Mission Hospital?"
I hopped back onto the freeway and found Mission without a problem, but the building where my neighbor was; a completely different story. I drove one way and turned around after seeing the emergency helicopters, parking in a structure on the opposite side of the hospital. I went inside where they told me my neighbor was not staying at the hospital. They finally found her and said she was on the other side and to drive passed the helicopter pad. I found the parking structure and notice only one spot on the upper level. I should have realized there was a reason no one was parked there, near the cement wall. I was sure I could fit but rather scraped our nice Honda on the cement wall; the parking spot was obviously too tight. I called B again, sniffling, "I just scratched the front right side of our car..." It was not the whole side but there is a good scratch.
The last thing I wanted to do was visit in the hospital while crying about the car. I dried my face off, and took in the crooked flowers and goodie basket. I didn't stay long, but both of my neighbor's daughters looked at me with teary eyes and said, "This means so much that you came to see mom."
I wondered why the Lord would let me scratch the car, when I was just trying to help my neighbor out. And I prayed that when I woke up it would be a dream, but I think the lesson I'm to remember is what things hold most value in life.
