What I gained from losing a car
Before you read any further, I have two disclaimers:
- Owning a car is a privilege. I appreciate that what I’m sharing here is a first-world problem.
- Owning a second car is an even bigger privilege. I’m grateful for God’s provision for us in both our vehicles.
For 22 years, my husband and I have owned and driven the same car. (Yes, you read that right: 22 years. Toyota, if you’re wondering.) We bought it just after we married and it’s been a daily driver for one of us ever since.
Until two weeks ago.
She up and quit on us when we took her in for an oil change. Our trustworthy mechanic came out of the garage like a surgeon with bad news. He didn’t even want us to drive her home because the risk to the engine was too great. (We did, but the car has been garaged ever since. It can be repaired, but the expense is high–she needs a heart transplant.)
So, for the last two weeks, we’ve been a one-car family. And it’s been surprisingly… well, wonderful.
Let me acknowledge that it has been inconvenient. But only because we’re accustomed to having two vehicles. And it’s precisely because of the inconvenience that we’ve benefitted.
The intersection: communication
As a two-car family, my husband and I have the luxury of coming and going as we please. Our communication with each other about our outings hasn’t been born of necessity, but simply the belief that–maritally speaking–telling each other what’s happening is a good thing. Communication was a luxury (of sorts) because we also had the luxury of a second car. Sharing a car means we haven’t had the luxury or freedom of free-wheeling through our days: it’s been necessary to dialog more about our rhythms, needs, and goings-on in our days. We’ve felt more connected, more interdependent, than we normally are. And, much to our surprise, we’ve liked it. A lot. So much so, that we decided that purchasing another car wasn’t urgent. I’m sure it will happen sooner rather than later, but we’re not stressed about making it happen fast. The fresh need for communication is a true boon to our marriage of 22+ years. (If our communication patterns were a pair of jeans, they’d be worn beautifully soft and tattered by time.)
The carpool: time together
Our rhythms are much like most folks I know. We all rise in the morning at different hours, with just enough time to accomplish our individual routines before school/work. We all depart with just enough time to arrive where we need to be… each on our own schedule. But in recent weeks that’s looked different: my hubby has worked from home more, as have I. By being in the same space more of our days, we’ve enjoyed grabbing our lunches at the same time, or having the spontaneous conversations or short walks that proximity has afforded us. Plus, when we’ve needed to be at our respective offices, the entire family has started our day at the same time and departed at the same time, in the same car. As a mother with teenagers, I’m not toting a minivan full of children any more, so the occasions when our family is going the same place is largely on weekends: to church and/or out for a meal. So, starting our weekdays all together has been a delightful departure from the norm. The tunes–and laughter–have been loud at 7:22AM. And I’ve loved it. We all have.
Check the engine
I hope to carry this lesson forward, even after we’re a two-car family again. Perhaps you will, too? (And thus be spared the purchase of a new-to-you car to learn it? You’re welcome.)
I’ve been reminded that healthy community is a product of mutual sacrifice and interdependence. Whether with spouse, children, or neighbors. Paul encourages us to “look not only to [our] own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (Philippians 2:4) Acts 4:34 describes the way the early church freely gave of their resources so that there was no need unmet in the community. American “rugged individualism” (not to mention polarization) has robbed us of the joy that interdependence brings. But we don’t have to let it. We can live differently… in community.
Two friends of mine take turns making dinner for each other’s families (and their own) every Wednesday. Does that appeal to you as much as it does to me? Maybe we can be willing to borrow a tool from a friend instead of buying it for ourselves; even if we can afford it, we’ll have a conversation with our neighbor that we mightn’t otherwise (same goes for lending the tool!). Whatever sacrifice we make is likely to pay off in relationship.
In a way, that’s a picture of the gospel, isn’t it? We have fellowship with God because of Jesus… we talk with God in prayer because of Jesus. Our communion–community–with God is the fruit of Jesus’s sacrifice. And the Church is meant to emulate the kind of community our Triune God has within Himself. Can we do that, friends?