Brian and I were returning from our fabulous vacation celebrating our 10 year wedding anniversary that is coming up in November. We had picked up the kids from my parents in Houston, said "See you in a month!" and were on our way back home in my Expedition. We stopped for dinner at Whataburger, and started the 4 hour drive to Denton.
A little over an hour after leaving, the car breaks down. I mean, we are driving one minute and the next the car is no longer on. Completely stopped. Brian manages to pull over to the shoulder and the girls immediately ask questions.
"Mommy, what happened?", "Why did the car stop?", "Why can't we watch a movie?", "Can Daddy fix it?", "Why can't Daddy fix it?". And on and on!
Brian is staying calm about it, even though he can't figure it out. I am frustrated that I have to entertain the kids, keep them cool in the Texas heat, even though it is 6:30 in the evening. Michelle asks what is wrong with the car and I tell her I don't know and neither does Daddy. I tell her to pray to God to help us. She says "But I already prayed two times." I suggest praying some more. Of course, during this time, my faith is not really on my list of things to focus on.
A little while later, while we are evaluating all our possibilities on how to get home, get the car home, all the while keeping our sanity, Michelle tells Carolyn that she prayed three times. Carolyn says that she will pray too. I am walking to the bushes to take care of business and to take a break from the kids questions and I hear, "Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord" coming from Carolyn. Wow! What we needed to hear.
