American Cars

Do you ever just get the feeling that you have absolutely no clue what’s going on?

Same here.

Every day it seems like I have a “You’d think I’d have figured this out by now” moment, but naturally I never have it fully figured out and I probably never will.

The only thing I seem to have genuinely figured out is my faith and relationship with Christ - so thank Him for that.

Anyways, I’m finally back in Virginia with the boys until late Thursday afternoon, then I fly to Texas to see my sister. I’m so beyond excited, but I am absolutely so beyond tired.

“But nevertheless, she persisted.”

I know I wrote about the jist of my history with Jacksonville in last week’s piece, but as always, there’s more to it.

It was a busy week - really busy. I feel mentally and physically burnt out. There were awful moments and wonderful ones, but one particular phenomenon stuck out to me in a way that outshined them all.

I have a weird connection with old, late 60’s Ford Mustangs. The obsession formed when I was much younger, then I got my hands on a burgundy 67’ GT and it really took off. Driving that mustang around Jacksonville will forever be ingrained in my mind.

Once we had Walter, times got tough and I had to make the call to sell it. Since then, one like it always finds a way of showing up on my worst days. I often look at this occurrence like a little nod from God that I’m either doing alright and that I simply need to keep the faith, or even as a polite shove to start doing something differently (see “A Different Path” in The Archives for more on this).

All in all, I don’t see cars like that often, but when I do it's always a glimmer of hope, and it always means something - even if I don’t understand it immediately. 

Like I said, this past week had been quite the compelling one, but overall I was having an exhaustingly wonderful time. So when my friends and I were leaving dinner Wednesday night, ‘Bibles & Birds’ as we call it, and we saw the most gorgeous seafoam green (my favorite color) Mustang I’d ever seen to date, I had no clue what to make of it.

My friend knew about these odd God-glimmer moments more than anyone, and she later pulled me aside and asked me what I thought that it meant. I candidly told her that I had no clue, but I’d pray about it; I was sure that He’d fill me in eventually.

And boy, did He fill me in or what.

Lately, I’ve been being taught a months-long course on the idea that being right means nothing in the long run - by God Himself it seems, at the rate the lessons keep recurring. 

I’m nowhere close to graduating the class, but my progress has been substantial.

I love the Beatitudes in Matthew. Especially, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.” (Matthew 5:9 - ESV).

I used to have no problem arguing my way out of the corner that someone put me in, especially with someone in my family, whether I was right or wrong. But that looks a bit different for me now. Fortunately, that verse stuck with me.

Now, my body seems to have a visceral response to conflict and upsetting other people, especially those I care about. I’d quite rather take the blame and apologize for everything rather than explain my real feelings or argue with anyone. Even writing this now and thinking about situations like this makes me want to go lay down in a cold, dark, room and sleep until the issue disappears.

And when others are at odds, I’d do just about anything to encourage them to make up and restore the loving, peaceful relationships that we should all have with one another.

I just want peace. I want my life to be so quiet that I only feel the peace of the Lord - a peace that surpasses all earthly understanding.

It’s never that easy, but man, am I trying.

Then falling flat on my face, per usual.

A few days after seeing the car, all of those feelings fell over my heart after months of trying my best to ignore them.

It was a song really, that brought it all on: “American Cars” by Noah Kahan. 

Listen to it, but imagine that you’re the eldest sister. That sentiment alone says just about everything that it needs to once you hear it in context.

I saw a Tiktok of Noah explaining that he wrote this for his older sister, commending her for always coming back home when things were falling apart and he needed her.

It’s such a loving sentiment from him, but even so, it’s not hard to see the true weight of it that exists on both sides. For her, and for him. 

I’m not gonna air out my family’s dirty laundry, but we are a very loving, yet very complicated group. Noah wrote the song about his own sister, but as all good songwriting does, it made me think about my own siblings, and shattered my heart down to the quick.

I often beat myself up in worry that I’m doing wrong by them, and I have. Time and time again, if we’re being honest.

But while we’re being honest, I can also think of a time or two when I’ve done right by them -  when I’ve tried my very best.

So as I was driving out of Jacksonville early Saturday morning, already thinking of that specific paradox, the song came on over the speakers of my truck.

Naturally, struck by the coincidence, I started filling in the blanks and making connections. 

Maybe I saw that gorgeous green car as I nod from God that He sees my effort - that I may actually be on the right track for once, or even just a sign of hope in light of all that was burdening my mind regarding the situation that was plaguing me. 

After reaching that conclusion, I started to think that I’d probably write about it, then immediately doubted myself and wrote off the idea because it was too personal for the blog. 

I was stopped at the world’s longest light while having these revelations - looking down, fiddling with my rings and bracelet like I always do - basically slipping into a veritable puddle of my own tears and self-doubt. 

Trying to shake myself out of it, I looked up.

And there it was: a gorgeous, cherry apple red, late 60’s Mustang, stopped at the light across from me.

It stopped me dead in my tracks. I almost didn’t even notice the light go green until it started to slowly roll past me.

Fun fact: I had always planned to repaint my mustang cherry apple red.

People can chalk things like this up to coincidence all they want, but I know that this glimmer was God’s design alone. I know everything is, but somehow this in relation with everything else lately so much more.

I make it a point not to bargain with God. I don’t ask for signs, but in my heart of hearts, I needed to feel seen. He answered a call I never realized I’d made.

To me, it was clear: everything I had just pieced together was pretty well spot-on, and most importantly, a reassurance that He sees me and knows me and my heart.

Fast forward to today, I’m still in awe of His grace and wonder. I know it was nothing overtly miraculous like healing the blind, but it was pretty dang close to me. 

So here I am, baring it all for anyone who wants to hear it, and praying that He doesn’t stop nudging me like that since I’m out here telling our little secret on the internet for the second time.

At the end of the day, all of our relationships with God are highly different and present themselves in different ways as he works to teach us and guide us through different things. But I guess I just hope that my little story will encourage you to just keep trying, and take such great heart in knowing that it’s all His plan, and that He sees you. 

No matter what, no matter where - even if you don’t have an odd obsession with old American cars.

Until next week,

— E. Byers, author of The Grassy Laine