Admittedly, those are strange words to put together. But "B" and "C" come right by each other, and both played key roles in our last two weeks.
A few weeks ago Meg, who sits in the far back corner of our van on the passenger side, told me she would prefer not to ride in our car anymore if the tires were going to make so much squeaking noise every time we stopped--and she certainly wouldn't be going on our vacation with that racket. So I took the hint and brought the van in to the shop.
B is also for Brakes, and that was the problem. I needed new calipers. And, because I told the mechanic we were going on an Out West Trip and asked him to "kick the tires" to see if there were any problems, I also needed a new intake manifold gasket. Whatever that thing is. I authorized him to fix the calipers right away and set the intake thingy appointment. He fixed the van while I was at work, I picked the van back up, and I went on my merry way.
That was Tuesday. Friday I was in Traverse City with the ladies in my family, and I got a text message from my husband:
What did they do to your van?
Um . . . they fixed it. Why?
Nope. The front tires smelled of burning rubber, and smoke was billowing from the front passenger tire. Oi.
That Monday the van was back in the shop. The caliper had seized up--bad from the box--and would be replaced. The next day I walked back into the shop and picked up my van, with a fresh new caliper and that new intake thingy. And then three days later we were off.
My husband and I took our three girls on a week long vacation to the Black Hills of South Dakota and then to visit "family" on the East side of South Dakota--with an overnight at a covered wagon on the Ingalls family homestead in De Smet in between. Everything went well for the first hour. Then we had our first potty break. This was going to be a long trip, we could feel it.
Our first night we made it to Cedar Falls, IA. I totally screwed up on a non-refundable Orbitz room reservation for the Super 8 that night (turns out it was the 17th, not the 24th), but the staff at the Super 8 went above and beyond their jobs and settled it all. And took another $10 off our bill for good measure. Apparently everything is refundable if you have a tired face, cute kids, and an apologetic attitude. We slept well and were off on another day of making sandwiches in rest areas, searching for radio stations amidst the static, and playing the alphabet game.
An hour down the road Addie realized she left her blanket, "Dottie," behind at the hotel.
I called, they didn't find it, Addie cried then and again at bedtime that night. We were tucked into our little cabin at Mystery Mountain Resort in Rapid City, SD, by then. We decided she probably left Dottie at home and talked her into sleeping while snuggling my soft body pillow. I'll be honest. It didn't really work. Not that night or the next three.
The next two days were filled with the beauty of God's creation. We kept our Sabbath that day celebrating Daddy Beau with a hike through Wind Cave and a ride from Hill City to Keystone aboard the 10-mile-per-hour 1880's train. We saw prairie dogs and deer and Crazy Horse and craned our necks for a glimpse of a bighorn sheep like the crossing signs promised. The pool at our resort was lovely for the girls, and the tow truck driver who let Beau back in the keys-locked-inside van at the local Walmart was quite friendly. Monday was a trip to Wall Drug (have you dug it?), a journey through the Badlands National Park with several stops for hiking and "I think I heard a rattle snake" (and a big horn sheep sighting!), and a S-L-O-O-O-W van ride through Custer State Park. Our animal count increased to several antelope, a mama burro who scratched her neck on our side mirror (my window was definitely rolled up) while her baby nursed, 300 buffalo grazing in a field, and a million more prairie dogs. The hairpin turns and uphill climbs up Iron Mountain Road to Mt. Rushmore led us around a blind curve and apparent traffic jam . . . a herd of buffalo--papas, mamas, and babies. It was so cool. We made it to Mt. Rushmore for the very impressive lighting ceremony and back to bed by midnight "home" time.
Our last day there was meant to be a rest day. We talked about eating at a favorite restaurant, maybe taking in a few shops, and swimming a lot. Once we'd woken up though, Beau said, "Hey, do you want to take a quick drive on the Needles Highway through Custer?"
Yes. Yes, I do.
So we did. And it was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen. The hairpin turns and narrow tunnels through rocks and views were some of the most amazing things God has created. And right up until we coasted into the town of Custer, it was a perfect morning.
We first smelled the burning rubber when we stopped at the public restroom for one of the girls. Still, we thought, "Eh, that was hilly. It's fine." It wasn't fine. Beau switched with me to see if I noticed anything, and I couldn't get the van to go over 5 MPH. When I took my foot off the gas, we immediately stopped.
"This isn't fine," I said. Beau Googled repair shops, and we limped our way the two blocks back to the station. Where we learned that not only had the calipers seized up (again!), the tires were locked up too. Forty miles from all of our things. We went to Subway with a list of potential car rental places and sick stomachs. Nobody answered their phones except those who had nothing good to tell us . . . and the car place reported the tires had unlocked but the heat was so bad that the rotors had turned blue so we'd need new calipers again, new rotors again, and new pads again. Oh, and the outstanding news was that the calipers wouldn't be in until noon the next day. Two hours after we were supposed to check out and leave Rapid City. And the repairs wouldn't be done for two hours after that.
But wait. How were we even going to get back to Rapid City? There were no cars to rent in Custer. The cars to rent in Rapid City weren't going to get us from Custer to Rapid. We were stuck. My sandwich sat untouched on the table as I frantically texted my family and dear friends back home and on the East side of SD--Pray. Please pray.
"I didn't mean to overhear you," the man said as he sat down next to me. "But my wife and I were talking--it sounds like you need to get the five of you from here to Rapid City?"
I nodded, because it's all I had.
"We're headed there. We'd like to take you, if you'll let us."
I burst into tears, because it's all I had.
We rode back to Rapid City with perfect strangers, because sometimes God's blessings come in the form of angels embodying South Dakota hospitality. So the girls spent the afternoon in the pool at the resort, and we found a rental car, and we packed up our cabin ready to leave in the morning . . . still praying our van would be fixed on time, and we would get to our covered wagon five hours and one earlier time zone away before everyone fell asleep.
God works, friends. In real life. His blessings come in strangers and in resort owners who say, "take a late checkout--and feel free to leave here in storage whatever you can't fit in the car, pick it up whenever," and in car shops where parts arrive on time and the work gets completed on schedule. And then He even sends blessings in children not arguing or needing to stop for bathroom breaks and a 5 hour drive taking only fifteen minutes longer (because we had to get gas). He also sends blessings in a beautiful sunset over a corn field just before we pulled in to the Homestead and found our covered wagon before the light was gone. And then His blessings appear in stars visible in 360 degrees around us and a full fire moon and shooting stars above our heads and peaceful time enjoying it all.
We had a lovely visit with our dear South Dakota family where we were reminded that friends who became family 30 years ago are one of God's greatest blessings. Our time there was too short and will happen again many, many times over the years to come. Our Des Moines visit with our friends and former seminarian and his wife was treasured time as well, and our trip home involved two brief stops, and then home, sweet, home. Because time away is always blessed by returning home and sleeping in your own bed.
Two days ago, I pulled into the garage at our house, and I smelled burning rubber. And the tires were burning hot. One more trip to Chuck's Auto, and today I have a new master cylinder in my van. And a mechanic who is making sure the repairs in Custer are fully covered under warranty and that we are taken care of. Because sometimes God's blessings come through car repairs and mechanics who go the extra mile.
Our vacation was wonderful. And memorable. And we saw God's blessings in our every mile.
Oh! And the highlight started on the sofa at the farm, just a bit past bedtime, nearly a week after we left Cedar Falls.
"I left Dottie in the drawer under the TV," a sweet and tired little voice said. So I called the Super 8. And yesterday a box arrived for the sweet and still tired little girl. She ripped it open just enough to pull Dottie out, and she sniffed Dottie--"It's even washed, Mommy!"--and she draped Dottie over her head and spent the day snuggling the blanket she'd slept with every night of her life up until that night after Cedar Falls.
Because sometimes God's blessings are found in quick mail service and a thoughtful hotel . . . and a pink fuzzy blanket with brown polka dots.
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