Cars

Yesterday Chad spend the day in surgery. As he was leaving the hospital he ran into a guy whom we shall call Mr. F. Mr. F. grew up here, and went to high school with Chad's older brother. He is not a member of the church. Chad became re-aquainted with Mr. F. shortly after we moved here. Mr. F. recently completed P.A. school and accepted a position back here in town, and happened to be leaving the hospital at the same time as Chad. They were parked next to each other in the parking garage. Mr. F. climbed into his nice, shiny new silver Toytoa Tundra, which I'm sure is very clean inside. Chad climbed into his 2001 Toytoa Corolla, also silver but not quite so shiny and new. Inside were 2 carseats, a package of babywipes, and other paraphernalia associated with being a soccer dad of 4.3 children and a counselor in the bishopric. Chad commented to me that the cars are such a symbol of the choices they've made.

Mr. F. probably drove that shiny truck home to an empty house and ate a solitary dinner and spent the evening watching sports.

Chad drove his not-so-shiny car home to a house full of love and noisy children. The minute he walked in the door Megan ran as fast as her tiny little legs could carry her over to him and wrapped her arms around his legs. He spent some time watching sports too, but it was Natalie's soccer game. Then he ate dinner while feeding the kids because I was at my book club, checked Caleb's homework, had them clean their rooms, then got them in jammies and in bed. When I got home 3 of the 4 were asleep, and the 4th soon followed.

I can't help but be grateful that Chad wouldn't trade his not-so-shiny car and lots of love for that shiny new pickup.

And I can't help but wonder if Mr. F. would trade his shiny truck for the crazy but full life that comes with that not-so-shiny car. I wonder if he even knows what he's missing.

My sister posted this on her blog, and I think its my new favorite poem.