“Mrs. Luck, I am here to repossess your car.”
It was the day before Thanksgiving and I had just walked out of a thrift store with my young son when the stranger approached. I stood there in shock. Thankfully, my son had climbed into the car to play with his train and was out of earshot.
I willed back threatening tears. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”
He repeated himself, then said, “You’re 16 days late on your payment and we need to take the car.”
I tried to explain that there were payments scheduled to post through my bank in the next three days, even giving him transaction numbers. Nothing I said mattered. I glanced at my son and saw fear in his eyes. He didn’t understand what was happening. Neither did I.
The stranger got into the car, saying he wouldn’t “just leave” my son and me there. He told me to drive home and he would take the car from there.
Once we were home, I was told to take only what I would need from my car and assured it would remain in Orlando until the payments cleared. I moved in stoic motions, my mind reeling. I couldn’t think clearly. My husband tried by phone from work to convince the stranger to let us take care of things then, but the man refused.
As our car was driven away I told my son it was taken for repair. We later discovered the car had been taken to Tennessee and were told all ($1,400. worth) of our personal contents were thrown away.
The stress in our home was unreal. Our marriage felt it. Our son responded to it. My faith was shaken. I felt angry. Deceived. Broken. Worthless. Abandoned. Afraid. I cried thousands of tears, many through gritted teeth and with a broken and confused heart.
Why was this happening? Where was God in it all? My pride was hurt. I was ashamed.
What if people found out about this? What would they think? I felt completely out of control. I had worked hard in my life, in my relationship with God, to trust again. In those moments I felt cynicism suffocating again.
I don’t share this for pity. I share because you need to know that I understand LIFE IS MESSY, and sometimes it hurts! I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t. We must find freedom to talk THROUGH what hurts, not AROUND it.
My prayer is, “God, please give us the strength to stand up, speak up, fight back and hold onto you regardless of what we face.”
“So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most.” Hebrews 4:16 NLT
Don’t be ashamed of pain or truth. It’s time we lose the masks and allow the stories to be told and healing to come.
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Aj is a blogger, bookworm, wife and mommy, and an author of children’s books, spiritual thrillers, and inspirational works. Aj’s blog, Shattered Perspectives, is dedicated to encouraging and helping women who have suffered and/or are struggling with abuse. In her spare time Aj can be found nursing cold Diet Cokes and searching for awesome bargains in nearby thrift stores. She resides in Florida with her husband, son, two dogs and the biggest diva of a Siamese cat ever, and can be reached by email at firstname.lastname@example.org. For media requests pertaining to Write Where It Hurts, please contact Aj at info@WriteWhereItHurts.org.
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