It used to be exciting to purchase a new car….

I am watching the miles go up on my vehicle and seem to notice how they continue to climb by hundreds and thousands. I remember hitting 200,000 on July 6 of 2010. Now I am approaching 220,000. I love my car and if it would go forever, I would be content. It isn’t rusted, drives wonderfully and feels like it holds so many reminders of life. My red Saturn has been with me back in my Hospice days. It has navigated many country roads as I traveled to invite many to put words to their anticipatory grief and pending death. My red Saturn has been with me as I drove all over Michigan to meet with families for hours at a time, inviting them to wonder about how life would be different in their home if they adopted from China or Guatemala or Ethiopia….

My red Saturn ventured into business ownership with me and became the Visiting Angels marked vehicle that has been recognized by many. My red Saturn has heard my prayers, felt my tears, absorbed my laughter and been a place of many cherished conversations with family and friends. And in the last two years, my red Saturn has drawn the eyes of many as my very cute pup hangs her head out the window (in rain, shine and snow) and looks into every car with her loving deep brown eyes.

But now, more every day,  I am realizing that there will be an end to my red Saturn. Now, if only I knew when, I would wait till the very last minute. But, I am test driving a car tomorrow and trying to be open-minded. It used to be fun to purchase a car. To think about all the fun extra’s and to shop around and pick just the right car. I am not sure if it has to do with being 41, recognizing the cost more than I used to, or just loving the red Saturn that has been like a second home. But no matter what the reason for my resistance, I trust that the next car I purchase may gain some admiration in my heart as the next 8 years of life unfolds….

Author: trishborgdorff

I am on a life long journey to live with integrity, honesty, kindness and full of grace.

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