MacGyver and miracles | Independence Day

June slid by at about a hundred and ten miles and hour - in the blink of an eye, it seems, I've arrived in July, so fast that I skidded four days in before I even deployed my landing gear.

I'm so excited for the coming weeks ahead.  Sometimes it's easy to get in a rut, whether creative, spiritual, or anything else.  It seems like everything you're working for, everything you desire has been put on hold, and all of your projects and dreams blocked off by a brick wall.

And you wait, and wait, and try to be productive while waiting, and the waiting begins to weigh on your soul so heavily that you feel like just. giving. up.

You begin to feel a hardening of your heart, a skepticism that is so convenient to waiters, serving as a shield from the pain that hope so often is.

Then things start to happen.  Little things, and bigger things, and things they call miracles.

The miracle, for me, is when I'm given a supercharge of hope and faith by something completely unexpected, out of my control, and at the time, devastating, which turns out to be perfect in every way. Perfect timing, perfect orchestration.

Yesterday I was on my way to town and stopped at the Post Office.  I ran in and chatted with Ron the post master for about five minutes, grabbed a Nickel's Worth, and skipped back to the car.  

Turned the ignition.  A horrible sound issued from the front end of Bunbury, a gurgling, chugging sound, which to me intimated that the End of the World had come at last.  

In the passenger seat, my mom looked at me and I looked back.  Dismay hung like a dripping quilt.

We limped him the short distance home, stalling, chugging, back up the long driveway and into his berth in front of my bus.  I popped the hood and the two of us peered underneath at the vast wilderness of gleaming and dusty and greasy components that form that mysterious thing, a car engine.

One thing we're good at is troubleshooting.  A horrendous rushing sound, audible over the chugging and gurgling, pointed to a puncture, perhaps of a vacuum hose... within seconds, my mom had pinpointed the minuscule rubber elbow joint (for the uninitiated - like me - that's called a PCV valve) that had a neat hole blown in it, air rushing out like sixty.

We so happened to have a roll of an amazing substance which is now highly classified as our Secret Awesomeness Weapon (just kidding - it's called high-temp adhesive tape), which was soon brought on site and being applied by our four expert and intrepid hands.  I turned the key.  Bunbury purred to life with aplomb, the horrifying sounds he had just been emitting the thing of a dark and distant past.

MacGyver, move over.

July is going to be amazing.  Life is a brilliant thing.

Every moment.  And don't you ever forget it for a second.

Have a fantastic, glorious Fourth of July!

Today, perhaps in between the sparklers and watermelon and friends and family, take a minute to think of the things you love the most and what they cost.  Perhaps they cost someone else - a great deal.  

Perhaps you can thank them.

Today's the last day to enter the giveaway...  If you haven't yet, swing by here and take a peek - you just might be picking out a beautiful new Kellie Falconer skirt as our winner!