Wednesday night I went out to the garage and loaded up all the boys to head to AWANA. I turned the key after all the buckles were buckled. Click. I tried again. Click.
Grabbed my celly.
"Noah, the van is dead"
After a long, animated conference we decided that the most efficient way to get the kids to church was for me to jump the van, something I had never done before.
Thank goodness we still had (have) my parents van in our driveway. Why? Because we haven't gotten around to returning it.
So I used it to jump mine so I wouldn't have to move around carseats.
There were only a few tears and a little yelling.
I stand by my original statement that the "engine block" is in 3 parts.
In the end it started.
We went through the Wendy's drivethru since we knew we would be too late for the meal.
We all managed to get something to eat even though I made the mistake of letting Roman "carry" my milk shake into church (he had eaten half of it by the time we got to the table).
And I made the 2nd mistake of setting the bag in front of Lincoln so he pretty much thought that everything was his.
That van has not been good to me this winter.
And I am glad I don't always return things on time.
Especially since Noah's car is currently 25 miles away and will not start.
Winter has not been good to us this year.
But God is good.