My understanding of how a car works is thin. It is largely based on brief conversations with mechanics while handing over stacks of cash. Suddenly parts that meant nothing the day before are elevated to essentials.

 

It seems that there are two energy sources. The starter, not surprisingly, gets the motor going. This can be easy if you only turned the car off a minute ago, and more taxing in a Canadian winter. I am no engineer but I doubt that a starter can keep the car going for a two hour trip. 

 

Then there is the engine. This depends on pistons and continuous explosions. Pushing and pulling, which somehow creates a rhythm that motivates wheels to turn. 

 

It reminds me of my life. 

 

I had a full time job for precisely one year after college. I taught third grade in an idyllic classroom with plants and huge windows. There were seven eager students that I squoze into my Mustang to go on adventures. We performed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs because, well there was one of me and seven of them. I wore a cast at the time which did not add to the overall look but c'est la vie. It was a dreamy year fueled by idealism and the lofty hopes of a novice educator. It helped that I was freshly engaged. 

 

Forty years later I am a part time teacher of music and sewing, and yet what I lack in idealism I make up for in longevity. Most of the situations that come up with grumpy five year olds, or sleepy teenagers can be alleviated with any one of the tricks in my repertoire. I have not misplaced my temper in a very long time. 

 

Noble mindedness got me started. Sagacity keeps me going. 

 

Being around young couples is fabulous. There was a wedding this weekend that our son was in, and I was graced with the honor of ironing his suit. John cut his hair. The whole party of gorgeous young men and women glowed with a vibrancy that arrives undeserved in our third decade. Their group of friends is buoyant with newlyweds whose affection will fuel them well into the first few years. 

 

But something more sustainable kicks in after that. We were delighted to sit at the reception between two couples we love. One was the parents of the bride. The other couple recently danced at the wedding of their own daughter. Their relationships are not as showy and demonstrative as the ones in the bridal party, who were sitting on each other's laps and whispering in one another's ears. Rather their lives have kept running through the thrum of small explosions that seem to be an inevitable aspect of marriage. 

 

I am grateful for the sweet beginnings. And beholden for the Power that keeps us on the road.