There is one thing that we tend to learn and then quickly forget, and that is that we are not in charge.

This month marked a milestone for me; after six years, I mailed off the last monthly payment for my truck. Finally (I thought with mistaken confidence), I can work to pay off that Mt. Everest of a credit card bill.

With that in mind, I took my truck in for an oil change, to have its brakes looked at, and to have a tiny oil leak checked. Well, actually it wasn’t so tiny. My coworkers had to resort to wearing rubber boots in the parking lot. I was leaving oil slicks that would make the captain of the Exxon Valdez say, "You thought mine was bad!"

I sat patiently in the auto shop waiting room, when the mechanic came in and said solemnly that my truck would need a bit of extra work. At least I think he did. All I could hear was "blah blah, blah blah blah, $900, blah, blah ..."

"Wait, what was that you just said?" I asked.

"Oh, let’s see ... blah, blah, $900," he responded.

"Nine ...." My voice failed me.

"...hundred, yes, that’s right. You see, blah, blah, blah ...." I only speak of few words of Auto-Mechaniceze, which I learned as a youth after coming across a tribe of auto-mechanics when my ‘77 Toyota Corolla broke down in downtown Denver. They taught me such terms as, "transmission," and "brake pad," and I taught them the story of St. Christopher (patron saint of travelers), and how he had his sainthood revoked after Pope Pius got really lost when driving through Naples.

Back in Dodge, I did as a multitude of car-owners have done before me, I submitted. What else could I do? Another shovel load onto my mountain of debt.

We are definitely NOT in charge.

The very next morning as my truck was going into surgery, I found myself driving a loaner car into town. It was kind of fun. It smelled like every used car I ever owned. It made me feel like I was back in high school. I was compelled to reach for an 8-track tape, or go cruise the mall.

Unfortunately, the car had other plans. About half way between Spearville and Wright, it broke down. I pulled over and called the shop; turns out it was their best loaner, which made me wonder what they were doing to my truck for $900. Just as I hung up the phone, fellow Spearvillian, Officer Chris Weis, kindly pulled up behind me (thanks, Chris) and gave me a ride into work.

Now, just for a moment, let us go back one day before I took my truck into the shop. It was then that, again with mistaken confidence, I mentioned that after all the medical problems I had had in the past, which amounted to nothing except huge medical bills, I was "determined never to go back to the doctor unless I’m writhing in pain."

Two days later — the evening of the breakdown of the loaner car — I was writhing in pain. I tried to tough it out, but after about three hours of feeling as if I had swallowed all the barbed wire on the Ponderosa, I thankfully received another ride, this time to the emergency room (thank you, Charlene).

We are most assuredly, undoubtedy, NOT in charge.

Emergency rooms are like bakeries; they only have so many cooks. It doesn’t matter how hungry you are, you have to wait your turn. I sat in the waiting room for about 30 minutes, my guts screaming for attention. One poor woman looked positively green, but when the nurse said, "Who’s next?" any thoughts of graciously giving up my spot were stifled as a little voice in my stomach shouted, "OUTA MY WAY!"

Over the next three hours, I was given an X-ray, a blood test, and had to drink some green gloop that tasted like a cross between a wet dog and Columbo. In the end, the doctor said it was nothing serious, but that I’d need to get some meds at Wal-Mart and then stay in bed the next day, the day of my department head meeting. The idea of missing the meeting plunged me into a deep sadness.

After doing a little jig, I left the hospital, survived a 1:30 a.m. trip to Wal-Mart, and three days later I’m still on the mend. It’s Sunday, I’m on deadline and a day behind with no truck and an angry stomach, but I’m not worried about a thing.

Because no matter how crazy things get, no matter how deep your debt, no matter what illnesses or addictions you face, no matter how much life may seem to try to drag you down, you can be assured that God is in charge.

Although the workload may be heavy, when God’s in charge at least you know you’re going to have great benefits.