Angels.

If there's one thing I've always believed in, it's that God sends us angels. He places millions of these human-like creatures in every town and every country, with human-like names and identities, so that moronic-humans like me can get through the day.

This morning with an bone-dry tank of gas, I hightailed it to the nearest gas station. (actually that's a lie, it was the furthest one from my house haha) Before my parents left, they gave me step-by-step algorithmic instructions on how to dominate the ever-feared: Cardlock. I confess, I have always been very hesitant towards gas pumps. They scare me. I have visions of the tank overflowing and smelly gasoline spewing out the hole and the pump's brakes suddenly break so what was once a gas pump has now become pressure-washer, suddenly I'm inside a car-wash; I end up showering myself with purple and polishing the truck off, sitting in an intoxicating puddle of gasoline. I imagine myself as the starring role in Zoolander's freak gasoline fight.

Anyway, I let the machine read the card, I punched in my pin # and was told that it was now okay to "Use Pump". I approached the pump, grabbed the handle with a fake-confidence and set it inside the tank. I squeezed the handle. Nothin'. Squeezed it again. Nothin'. Again. Nothin'. And again. Nothing nothing nothing!!! I fiddled with the little metal contraption inside the handle. Nothin'. I even started talking to the pump. Nothin'. I threatened to start crying. Nothin'. I pressed in the handle until the machine timed-out. Pff!

I sat myself down in my truck and slammed the door behind me. I didn't know what to do. It was 10 AM on a Sunday morning. Anybody with a Cardlock knowledge would be sitting in church with their cellphones turned off, way off. I then started texting my sister whole lives two provinces away: "THE CARDLOCK IS NOT WORKING!!!"

She replied with, "Wow, you are stupid." Just kidding. She didn't say that, but we all know she was thinkin' it. As she started coaching me through the process, a white truck pulled up beside me. A man! A middle-aged male with many expected years of life experience was right outside my window! (so, just forget about my previous blog entry for a moment)

"Hi..." I said stepping out my truck, embarrassed as ever. "...can you help me?"

Yes, there's no doubt in my mind that this morning God sent me an angel. An angel who taught me that after you remove the pump, you're supposed to lift the thingy. An angel who even knew who my Dad was! Now I'm just praying I'm not gonna be the talk of the coffee shop this week...

Most would argue, "Jen, get real. It's a gas station! Somebody was bound to come around sooner or later. It's nothing but coincidence." All I can think is how sad it would be to live life believing that everything was just coincidence. To never believe in angels, God's hand, or that everything happens for a reason, is nothing but an empty, sad, and dry life. (kind of like my gas tank this morning) In case you didn't realize after a year of reading my blog entries, I am a dreamer and a believer.

So, now that I've allowed for a simple gas-pump experience to carry me away completely, let's get back down to shallow earth. I now have a new life goal: learn to pump gas independently. But if God wants to keep sending me his little gas jockey angels, then so be it!