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Most of the time, when I want to share something from my life, I just dive in and tell it. In this instance, though, IÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™m afraid my telling will fall short. That something I say, or donÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t say, will deplete my intent. Also, because I promised anonymity, I fear the elements I know but canÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t share may cause this to perhaps mean more to me than it might to others.
But IÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™m going to try, anyway.
A few years back, when my husband and I left Atlanta to move to Hinton, West Virginia, it was not something we carefully planned. We didnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t even know the move was about to happen. We believed we were just visiting for Christmas, but then my job ended on Dec. 22. This development came with severance pay and unemployment, enabling enough of a financial buffer for us to move (Don works remotely, so he can go wherever there is internet).
We rented our house in Atlanta to a close family friend and moved into the old warehouse we had purchased a year earlier as a down-the-road retirement project. It was NOT move-in ready, but we discovered freedom in living rough and making do on far less than we had in the past.
Our cars were paid off and ran well. We were in good health. Our pets were mostly young and strong. Our debts were nearly non-existent. I naively believed we were due for a bit of a coast, so I accepted a low-paying job that I actually enjoy and found life so much better without the 9-to-5/wearing-heels/assisting-suits world that I left behind.
But the coast wasnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t a long one. IÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™ll spare a full recounting of the litany of bad luck that arrived all at once, but just part of it involved a cardiac procedure and a fall down an elevator shaft and a blown head gasket and an extended veterinary stay for one of our cats. It seemed not a day went by without some costly, new catastrophe.
The health situation is finally under control and the cat is still with us, but the no-working-vehicles business was especially frustrating. The two had broken a day apart, leaving us without a way to get around as we figured out whether (and how) to repair or replace ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥” in a town where there are no Ubers or rentals or car dealerships.
This is where the anonymity comes into play. IÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™m forced by a pledge to be vague.
A friend from town ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥” a man we have only known a few months ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥” came to Recycling, where I work, and placed a key on my desk.
ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œWhatÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s this?ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ I asked.
ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œItÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s for you and Don,ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ he said. He handed me the title. It was already signed over. ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œI know itÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s not much, but itÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™ll get you around until you can get something else.ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥
The car isnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t new. ItÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s actually a few years older than my daughter, who will turn 28 the end of this month. There are some minor mechanical issues and itÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s held together in places by tape, but it is beautifully quirky and feels like it has a personality. And it runs.
The man who gave us this car is a Christian who has nearly nothing to his name. He talks often about his dream of owning a little piece of land, even if it is just half an acre and covered in junk. He would clean it. He would build a tiny home there, or maybe have a camper. A place for him and his bitty dog to finish out their years in a place of their own.
Selling the car wouldnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t have brought him much money, but it still would have taken him a little bit closer to achieving his dream. Yet, he didnÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™t think of himself. He saw his friends in a pickle and fixed it.
ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥œItÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s like the widowÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥™s mite,ÃÛÁÄÖ±²¥ Don said, referring to a Bible story about the widow who gave her only coin, a mite. It was a very small amount compared to what the wealthy were giving, but Jesus recognized the significance of her gift because giving it was a great personal sacrifice. The intention behind the gift was what was valued more than the size.
To be the recipient of such a gift is a bit humbling.
Yet every time we climb behind the wheel, it feels like a hug.
Karin Fuller Patton may be reached at karinfullerpatton@gmail.com.
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