Graciously, Lydia and John agreed to hang on to it for us, with the intention of giving it back to us upon our return to the States.
That was eight years ago, and the truth is becoming clear: we aren't returning to the States. (At least not any time soon). Maybe that is why I wept, more than the loss of the only piece of property we've ever owned. Maybe I wept because we aren't going back.
But then, there is no going back.
Because what I'm really mourning isn't the loss of a dream, or the loss of a truck, but the loss of time. The fact is the truck, sold or not sold, isn't worth much anymore. Time got the better of it.
Which brings me to the thought that finally stopped my tears: I still have the man who drove that truck! And the life we have together is better than I dreamed of.
And frankly, if people like us didn't do what we do, the 600 college students who heard about Him last semester...well...they wouldn't have.
That's worth a truck.
|Us in our truck, newly married.|
|Just married. He'd just helped up into the truck when this pic was taken.|