I have a new car. I know, I know. Many of you reading this are thinking, “Is this a reprint? I thought she just got a new car.”

No, this is not a reprint.

Yes, I did just get a new car last spring.  

Yes, I got another new car last week.

Two weeks ago, I was driving my nifty little Prius home from work, minding my own business, stopped on the road waiting for the car in front of me to turn into 7-11 and listening to a friend of mine on speaker phone talk about spreading deer corn when wham! I was hit from behind by a big ‘ol honkin’ truck. Bam! I was propelled into the car in front of me. Whoosh! Air bags deployed. Crack! My windshield split. 

Yeah.

My friend, clueless, kept talking about deer corn while nearly a dozen people surrounded my car. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Are you alright?”

“Are you hurt?”

Uh … I dunno. I had no idea how to answer that.

I finally picked up my phone. “I’ve just had a wreck. Can I call you back?”

Soon, the ambulance arrived. They pried my door open, loaded me on a stretcher, and I vaguely remember seeing a rabbit-shaped cloud in the sky before they carried me off to the hospital where my big brother met me.

Several x-rays and a CT scan later, the doctor told me what I already knew, but didn’t want to hear. I had some owies. Some new ones, as well as some pre-existing ones I didn’t know existed before the accident, but which had now been aggravated.

Yep.

The next day, my dear friend went to the wrecking yard where my car had been towed, and got my stuff out. He also took pictures.

Lots of them.

Geez Louise. My poor little Prius. I’m glad I didn’t really see my car before they carted me off in the ambulance. It was a total mess.

The next four days of my life are unaccounted for, as I drifted in and out of the happy place created by pain meds and muscle relaxers. But then, I had to leave the happy place behind and return to the real world of fourth graders and over-the-counter drugs. But at night, before bed, I get to take my happy pills again.

Now, before you bombard my editor with calls of concern about my addiction to pain meds, I accidentally left them at my mom’s house last weekend and haven’t taken any since then. But I want them. I really want them.

Like, really. Want. Them.

Heavy sigh.

I distracted myself from the pain by shopping online for a new car. Nothing. Nothing even close to my suh-weet deal of a 40K mile, garage-kept, grandma-owned, gas-saving Prius hybrid. I looked north. South. East. West. Even in the foreign country of Louisiana.

Not a thing.

Is it okay to mourn a car?

After many days and dozens of phone calls to shady-sounding characters who wanted to sell me a rebuilt Prius, I finally asked the question I probably should have asked to begin with. Does Toyota make another hybrid, besides the Prius?

Turns out, they do. The Camry hybrid.

Turns out, there was one for sale, just up the road.

Turns out, the couple who owned it are both teachers. Both really nice people. Just good, honest, hardworking folk. And the woman?

From right here in my town.

I had a good feeling about this.

I took my corny friend along to help me examine it. After all, I’m all like, “Wow. It’s a pretty color. Wow, nice stereo. Wow, dual climate control.”

And he was all like, “Nice belts. Battery looks good.”

So for the property damage settlement plus a little more, I got a newer car. A bigger, nicer car. A much more comfortable car.

Yeah, the medical stuff will probably last a while, but praise God, I’m alive. Praise God, I was wearing my seatbelt. Praise God, my kids weren’t in the car with me. It could have been so, so much worse.

My neck hurts. My back hurts. But I’m still pretty much in one piece. I have a car. I have people who love me and want to take care of me.

Even when life turns out to be a real pain-in-the-you-know-what, we can count our blessings. Sometimes, we have to endure some pretty sore circumstances to find something better than what we currently have. We can rest easy and find a happy place in knowing God is good, all the time.

Even in crunch time.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love Him. —James 1:12