November 4 – “Onstar”

Today is the day Josh and Christi and the boys make their part of the move to San Antonio.  Their plan was to drive down today and sign all the paperwork for the lease on the house Josh chose by himself a few weeks ago.  Christi hasn't even seen it yet, except in pictures.  Pressure's on, Josh.     They were going to sleep on the floor in the "new" house tonight, and their stuff is due in on the moving van sometime tomorrow.  Haven't heard from them yet, so I guess no news is good news.     Chris headed for Bay City again this morning.  She promised to take her Dad into Houston for an appointment with his foot doctor.  She couldn't leave, until we put some air in the tires of the car.  We still have our free trial of Onstar going, and I got an email a week or so ago that the tire pressure was low on all four tires.  Honestly, I ignored it.  How could they know, right?  Well, a few days ago the car itself started in on us.  Every time we started up, a message would flash that the tire pressure was low.  Failing to get our attention that way, it would switch to telling us which tire was low, and by how much.  "Low tire pressure.  Left rear tire.  23 psi."    Well, it's been raining every day for the last three days, so we couldn't fill them up without getting drenched.  We figured out how to turn the message off, but not that little yellow caution icon on the dash.  And even after we got the message off, it would decide that we needed top know about it again at random times.  It was driving Chris bonkers.    So before she left I went out to check the tires the old fashioned way, with one of those hand held gauges you can buy at WalMart.  It was good enough for my Daddy, so it's good enough for me.  I was even excited about trying out the little compressor some friends gave us when Chris was planning one of her building projects awhile back.  It was so she could hook up a nail gun.  Scary.  It was supposed to carry up to 100 psi, so I figured I could just use it.  But after I got everything all set up, I realized it didn't have the right connector on it for tire filling up.  I thought I had the answer to that one.  I salvaged my Dad's old one from before the storm that we all used to fill up car tires.  It hooked up, but it leaked rather badly, so no pressure there.  That meant a trip to the gas station to use the one where air costs $1.00 for 3 minutes or something like that.  We almost forgot to bring our stash of quarters, but I dashed back in, picked up a handful, and we were on our way.     The other interesting factor about our day today on the island was the wind.  We were having gusts of up to 40 miles per hour.  That's just five miles under a tropical storm, isn't it?  And it was chilly wind at that.  We pulled up to the mechanical breathing machine and I braved the gusts to drop in our four quarters.  The machine came to life.  And I dropped to a knee to unscrew the first cap.  I checked the pressure.  23 psi.  Hmm.  I crammed the nozzle on and filled it up to around 30, then struggled to get the little cap back on.  Moving to the next tire was a chore.  The angry breathing monster didn't like me stretching its nose across the car, and it was obviously fighting back.  I managed to get it in place by putting my foot on it while I unscrewed the next cap.  I checked the pressure.  23 psi.  Just as Onstar said.  I crammed the nozzle in.  This time it was intermittently spitting at me, but it finally completed the rise to 30 psi.  And I moved on.  Back across the car to tire number three.  Again I had to pull and stomp on its wriggling nostril to keep it in place so I could unscrew the cap.  Done.  Pressure check.  23 psi.  OK.  I get it.  I pushed the nozzle in and waited.  Pulled it off to check pressure.  23 psi.  Now wait a minute.  I shoved it back on.  Waited longer this time.  Pressure check.  22 psi.  What?  I stood and turned and only then noticed.  The angry monster had quieted.  The snorting had stopped.  My 4 quarters worth of time was gone.  "Feed me again," seemed to be its stifled laugh.  So I did.  And again it was forced to come from its cave and breathe air into our tires.  The third one finished and checked out at 30 psi.  One more to go.  I battled with the creature to join me on the far side of the car.  I stood heavily on its nose while I unscrewed the cap.  I ducked my head to avoid the gusting blasts from behind.  I managed to get the cap off, but dropped it.  Where is it?  On the other side of the wheel, being slowly driven by the wind farther and farther.  Just out of my reach.  I adjusted my position for another try.  And the nasal beast beneath my foot escaped.  It whipped around my leg and past the other tire, back, back into the gaping hole from whence it came.  I moved as fast as I could, fearing now that time was against me, that I had not enough quarters for another attempt.  I grabbed the wiry beast and tugged again toward the other side of the car, stopping to grab the tiny, elusive cap.  I measured the pressure.  23 psi.  OK.  I get it, I told you.  The voice was almost audible, "Trust in Onstar.  We know all.  We know."  Forcing the thought from my mind, I returned to the task at hand, and completed it.  Checking the pressure one last time to make sure.  30 psi.  Fine.  I carefully returned the unwieldy hose to its growling body.     When I got back in the car, I told Chris it was done. We could move over and get some gas.  She was talking to Nathan on the phone, but before putting it in gear, she … checked the gauges.  30 psi.  30 psi.  30 psi.  31 psi.  Aha!  One of us was wrong, Onstar.  I glanced at Chris.  She smiled sweetly, nodded her head in the affirmative, accepting the word of the gauge.  And drove on.   Ah, the spiritual applications raced through my head on this one.  God knows.  You can't hide your sin by changing the channel.  It has a way of popping back up.  When you have a problem with sin in your life, nothing you do is quite enough or quite right until the problem is fixed.  And there is only One who can do the fixing.  And his name is not Onstar.   Psalms 44:20-21 says, "If we had forgotten the name of our God or spread out our hands to a foreign god, would not God have discovered it, since he knows the secrets of the heart?"   Father, thank you for knowing me so well.  And thank you for forgiving me so often.  Amen.