Crime and Blessing

Last Friday evening, our family went to see Taming of the Shrew in a rather obscure little theater near downtown (a requirement for our eldest's AP English class). It was an excellent production.  And then when we left, we found the driver's side window of my husband's car had been broken out and his suitcase was stolen (he had driven there straight from the airport to meet us) as was his work bag containing his laptop, iPad, and various other folders and such.

Kind of put a damper on a nice evening. To say the least.

This was our first experience as victims of a real crime like this. And as such, it was interesting to see
our reactions. Keith told us we could go on home while he called the police and all, but there was simply no way I could leave him alone in that parking lot. Our eldest and I paced beside the car while he talked to the police on the phone (they never came out -- just took info over the phone).

Then he got a call from someone who found one of his work notebooks at the side of the road. She dropped it off at a police station for him, so he had to talk to the police about that, also.

Our youngest opted to sit in the van during all this, so I went to check on her once in a while and fill her in on what was going on. Her calm astounded me. She said, "You know, mom, I've been memorizing those verses we studied in BSF a while ago . . . about how God takes care of the birds and the flowers, so of course he's going to take care of us . . . we're worth much more than they are . .  . God knows what we need before we even ask . . . we don't need to worry about anything . . . this all happened for a reason . . . "

Wow. Preach to your mama, sweetheart.

As hubby and I finally crawled into bed way late, I took my turn praying aloud for the two of us. I thanked God for protecting our family that night. I asked if possible that his stuff could be returned. I asked for everything to go smoothly in the process of getting things repaired, replaced and restored. And after my "Amen", my husband piped up to add something: he asked God to bless the people who had broken into his car.

Bless them??!?  Sigh.

He's right. Yes, Lord, bless them.  We don't know why they went to this effort to take his stuff. If they are in need of money for food or shelter or basic survival, bless them and meet their needs. If they are in the throes of an addiction that drives them to desperate measures, deliver them from that bondage. If they are wrapped up in a dysfunctional community that makes this behavior seem normal and necessary, come to them and draw them away. Bring them to you, Lord. However you choose, in whatever mighty way you can, don't allow this event to go to waste -- use it somehow to bring these people to you.

Wow. I'm humbled and amazed sometimes at the work God has done in the hearts of my loved ones. And excited to see the completion of work He has in progress.

How I Ended Up Crying in an Empty Church Parking Lot

I knew I needed to get a Texas driver's license. I figured there was no point until we had a permanent address to put on it. Not until I was signing papers to close on the house and the lady making a copy of my license said, “Do you know that your license has expired?” did I realize that I needed to get a move on.

Of course, right after the closing we had our hectic several days moving from apartment to house. I stopped by the DPS office soon after (because I couldn't get anyone there to answer the phone) and asked what all I would need to have with me to get this process done. Turned out, I needed to have my vehicle registered in Texas before getting a license. And turned out, I needed to have the vehicle inspected before I could get it registered.

And turned out, I needed to replace the tires and update the insurance before I could get it inspected. (They also said I needed a current and valid photo ID – I was about to panic about that Catch-22, but thank God, the inspection guy didn't say boo about my expired license.) While he was out of town the first week we were in the house, hubby worked on getting our insurance taken care of and finding the best price on tires. So, I got the tires replaced . . . got the inspection done . . . got the van registered . . . and finally, yesterday made it to the DPS office again with all my required paperwork in hand.

Or so I thought. After waiting to see an agent (a short wait, I'll admit) and waiting while she checked over everything and signed various items, she suddenly asked where my marriage license was. Uh . . . nobody told me I needed my marriage license. Turned out, I did. So, I drove home, got it, drove back, and waited to see an agent again.

Waited through the paperwork again. Did the computer touch-screen driver's exam (86.6%, thank you very much). Scheduled a road test for 2:20pm yesterday afternoon. (No, I did not know going in that I was going to need to take a road test – but whatever.) Then I went home for lunch and a short nap. (Did I mention that I am still lousy sick? Yeah . . . )

So, I drove my third trip of the day back to the DPS office for my road test . . . only to be informed by my tester (after he'd already started paperwork and looked over my brake lights and all) that he couldn't give me my test because I didn't have my Texas tags on the van yet. I showed him I had them in the car with me – I just got them yesterday! No go.

I tried to smile. I went in and scheduled another road test – the earliest opening was Thursday morning. Then I drove to the empty church parking lot next door to the DPS office, sat in my car, and cried for a while.

Now, I realize it is ridiculous that this should bring me to tears. I have friends in the hospital right now. I have friends with seriously ill children. Friends with teenagers on drugs. I have friends who have lost their jobs . . . friends whose marriages are on the rocks . . . even in light of the trials our own family has gone through for the past couple years, this is minimal.  I know all that.

But you know, maybe it's a woman thing. I just needed to cry. As I've said before, sometimes, for a woman, crying is like sweating. It's a release of tension. I just had to get it out. Then I pulled myself together, stopped for a pack of Twinkies (don't judge me) and went to pick up my daughter.

And yes, I drove with my expired Iowa license.  Lord help the cop who stops me -- he'll get an earful.

Driver's Ed. UGGHHH.

There are reasons why my 17-year-old daughter is only now taking drivers' ed, and reasons why we are doing the "classroom" part of that instruction online from home, but that's more than I want to go into right now.  For the purposes of the rant to follow, simply accept that it is so.

And I probably could have found a higher quality online program if I'd had the time, resources, and inclination to dig more.  I chose PTDE 101 (Parent Taught Driver's Education), the program created by the state of Texas, because it was a third or less of the price of the others on the approved list -- and because it was created by the state, so I felt secure it would meet the necessary requirements.

But this program.  UGGHHH.

We read.  We read pages and pages of information that is not only irrelevant to 90% of the people taking driver's ed, but information that is written like a lawyer's brief.  Then she takes a quiz -- with questions that are either ridiculously obvious or questions about minute details that are, again, irrelevant.  And for each section, she has a writing assignment where she finishes three sentences describing how she will use the information she just learned to be a safe driver, a courteous driver, and an environmentally friendly driver (note that there has yet to be anything in any of the information presented concerning environmentally friendly driving).

I mean, I'll be honest: I'm not a great driver.  But I'm an experienced driver and certainly an adequate driver.  More than that, I am an excellent reader.  I'm a former English teacher, for crying out loud, with a graduate degree.  If someone like me is having trouble understanding what the heck they are talking about when I read the lessons, then there's a real problem here.

If an opportunity came up, I would offer the state my services in re-writing their curriculum.  [On a personal note, many instances have come up lately -- as they have come up throughout the course of my adult years -- when I find myself looking at someone doing something and thinking, "Ugh . . . I could do better."  Almost always it's in a teaching and/or performing and/or administrating capacity.  I'm trying to decide if this is arrogance on my part -- something I should deal with -- or if it's an urge I should indulge, because such thoughts have often led me into some great experiences.  But I digress . . . ]

I think the problem here is the mistaken notion that teaching someone to drive should involve extensive "classroom" time.  It shouldn't.  Yes, there is a set of information to be communicated, but you learn to drive by driving, not by reading about how to drive.  Actually, I think the deal is, they want to give the impression that they are ensuring safer drivers by having extensive requirements for people to get their licenses . . . but it is a hassle for everyone involved to increase the in-car instruction time (the part that really makes a difference in the quality of one's driving), so they increase the in-classroom instruction time instead (and add a bunch of gobbledy-gook and extraneous information to beef it up and make it last longer). 

It's an illusion.  It's what government does.  Why we let them get away with it, I'll never know.