Christmas Road Trip (Part 3)

 Today I present Part 3 of this year’s Christmas Story. You can find the first two parts here at this link, along with all of the other Growing4Life Christmas stories.

     As Mike drove off the exit, I was groaning inside. A delay was one thing. The financial implications of this was another. We just could not afford a hefty mechanic’s bill during this holiday season. I could almost hear my grandmother murmuring her favorite saying in my ear…don’t count your chickens before they hatch. I tried to will myself not to panic.
     “Where are we going?” Observant Aiden had noticed we had left the highway.
     “Need to check out something with the car, Bud,” said Mike casually, but I could tell the way his hands gripped the steering wheel that he was worried.
     “Why don’t we play a little game, boys?” asked Aunt Hattie, as she creatively thought of some fun little game to play with them to keep them preoccupied as we rolled into a gas station right off the exit.
     Mike opened the hood of the car and looked inside. This car had been a gem so far but it did have an awful lot of miles on it.
     After a short while, Mike pushed the hood down and came to stand by my window, which I rolled down.
     “I don’t think it’s anything major, but I do need to find a mechanic. I’m going to go in and see if they can tell me where to find one,” he pointed to the mini-mart attached to the garage.
     “Okay,” I said.
     I suddenly realized that I hadn’t heard anything from the boys for a while. I turned to check on them. Bless Aunt Hattie’s heart, she had them engrossed in their drawing boards, creatively concocting some game that was keeping them both busy and quiet.
     I closed my eyes and started praying, “Lord, if you could keep this a simple fix that isn’t too expensive, we’d sure appreciate it…”
     Soon Mike was climbing back in the vehicle, “the guy in there said there’s a garage about three miles in that direction,” he pointed to the left and then started the car and turned that way.
     A few miles later, we arrived at an old-fashioned garage that looked like something right out of a movie set from the 1960s. An older man, bearded and dressed in stained blue overalls, walked out of the garage, wiping his hands on an old rag, asking how he could help us.
     Mike opened the hood and he and the mechanic talked for a bit. Meanwhile, I heard Aunt Hattie fussing a bit in the back. She was trying to reach a bag and just couldn’t get to it.
     “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom,” Miles whined.
     I looked at the garage, doubtful that it had a public restroom. But I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask. Miles and I and climbed out of the car, “Aiden, do you have to go?”
     “Yeah, I’ll try,” he said, bounding out of the car with the typical energy of a boy his age.
     Aunt Hattie joined the group, declaring she may as well “try”, too.
     The mechanic kindly offered to let us use the restroom in his shop and soon we all felt much better and started to climb back in the car.
     “Oh, my dear, can I get something out of the back?” Aunt Hattie said.
     “Sure,” I moved to the back and opened the hatch for her. A bag started to tumble out of the stuffed compartment as the door swung up. I moved quickly and was proud of myself for catching it before it fell to the ground.
     Aunt Hattie sifted through the luggage, looking through two or three of her bags, finally pulling a small red box out of one of them and telling me I could shut the hatch.
     I eyed the box curiously. But I didn’t want to be nosy so I didn’t ask. We all got back in the car to wait.
     Within an hour, the mechanic was closing the hood and wiping his hands on his rag again. He took Mike’s credit card for payment and went inside. Hattie jumped out of the vehicle, red box in hand, and followed him inside.
     What in the world was she up to now?
     Soon she came out without the red box, waving the receipt and credit card. She handed the card to Mike, who put it in his wallet but she held on to the receipt, “I went ahead and paid the bill. I am just so grateful that you brought me with you. This is just a little way for me to say thanks.”
     “Oh, Aunt Hattie, no, you don’t need to do that…”
     “Oh, I know I don’t need to. I want to!” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
     “What was in that red box?” a curious Aiden wondered. I was so glad he asked because I wanted to know, too!
     “Oh, it was just a $10 Amazon gift card. I carry several of them with me most always because you just never know when you are going to need to say a hearty thanks to someone who did something special for you. Or maybe just give someone a tiny little pick-me-up. It’s amazing how such a small thing like that will lift someone’s spirits. It’s just a little way to let someone know they are appreciated and care for,” she smiled and then asked the boys if they’d like to continue their game. They enthusiastically said yes and they were soon back to drawing.
     As we pulled back on to the highway, I had to reflect on Aunt Hattie’s words. I knew Aunt Hattie was a thoughtful person. But I didn’t realize how intentional she was in how she cared for others or that her care extended to strangers.
     And I found myself wondering: Should I be more intentional? I was feeling uncomfortable as I recognized how self-focused and self-centered I was as I lived my life. Oh, I loved my family well and took good care of them, and that care extended to my parents and other family. But I rarely thought about the needs of others outside my immediate circle.
     But Aunt Hattie was challenging my whole perspective. As I heard her laugh in the backseat, I just had to smile. Yes, this was going to be an interesting trip in more ways than one.