R.I.P.

God spoke to Tom and I two days ago. He came in a cloud of smoke. From my car.

As we stood on the side of the highway in the heat of an Alabama drought with a crying toddler, my husband said, "So we'll look at cars this weekend." And I said, "Yeah."

With an old cell phone no longer in service, but charged up for such an emergency as this, we called 911 for assistance. Fortunately we were still in town, and Peter and I got a ride home with the sheriff while Daddy got to wait on a tow truck.

Since then, my car has been repaired. It wasn't expensive, but we're not looking back. The only question left is how to replace it.

I'm not 100% at peace with the idea of borrowing money. It's abhorrent to me. Yet I'm done with my car. Done. And I'm not willing to wipe out not only our savings but also our emergency fund. While I won't sleep well on a car loan, I won't sleep well on the other options either.

So financing we shall do. My only comfort is Tom's moonlighting. I'm hopeful, quite hopeful, that with the right discipline we can make this loan history by Christmas.

As for "Georgia," my college graduation present with whom I have spent my twenties, the car which saw me through dating, divinity school, my first job, marriage, my first house, and my first baby... May she rest in peace.