I take my heart out to see what’s wrong. The starter sounds fine — seems to be getting plenty of electricity. The tires are good, lots of tread left. I haven’t changed the oil lately but I have a few miles left on it.

I stand back and take a look at what else might be causing the trouble.

Wow! My heart is dirty! I had no idea it had gotten this bad.

I haven’t been to the heart wash for awhile. Wait — I’ve been to the quick one, the cheap one where you drive through and get a quick spray. In fact Sunday mornings I usually pay for the premium wash. But the deep dirt and the dried up bug splats, that tough dirt is all over my heart. How did I let it get this messy?

Where did that big ding come from? Oh, yeah, that was the big argument. Those nasty words made quite an impact. I peer closely; the dent shows signs of peeling paint already. If I’m not careful, rust will set in quickly and my heart will be ruined.

That does it. I’m getting my heart detailed. Full serviced.

I call the Guy, the one with the best reputation. Let’s get this baby washed and detailed!

He arrives instantly and I hand him the keys to my dirty heart. I decide to go relax for a few hours with a coffee, but He says He can work faster if I help.


I want Him to do all the work and I will just pick up my shiny heart when He is all done. No such luck.

We go to work, and I try to do it my way. But every time I work on a dried up bug splat, I make it worse. Next thing I know, I scratch up my heart even more. I’m too rough on the delicate parts. It is frustrating, working so hard and getting nowhere. I am sweating and my deodorant wore off awhile ago.

I’m sick of this heart mess! I should’ve left it alone. Why bother? My manicure is ruined and my feet hurt.

But He is patient and kind, and each time I mess up He shows me a better way. I’m slow to learn but after awhile I get the hang of it. He has this certain way of working, not abrasive, but very detailed. He has special tools, too, and when he’s done, you can’t even tell there had been such damage! And when I want to skip over spots, His eye doesn’t miss a thing.

“Here,” he says, applying some kind of balmy heart cleaner. “Let me rub that out.”

I stop whining.

I cooperate.

We work hard, He and I, but He does most of the work. I’m still sweaty and putting out effort, but His hand is guiding mine the whole way.

Finally we’re done for the day. I lean down on my heart, trying not to get old sweat on the shiny surface. I feel His hand in mine.

“Let’s take a look,” He says, and we step back from our handiwork.

Oh my, see how shiny and new my heart looks! You’d never know how many miles are on this old thing. I’ve never seen it look this great! They said He was the best detailer, but I’d never experienced a heart wash like this before.

There’s no way I’m going to settle for the cheap washes again. Oh, I’ll still go for the Sunday morning premium wash, but now I’m spoiled. I want my heart looking this good no matter how many miles I put on it.

I memorize His number. He smiles and surprises me with a hug. I reach for my credit card.

He laughs. “No charge,” He says. “It’s been paid for already. Call me anytime.”



This post is edited from one that previously appeared on Bibledude.net

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