Her Name Is Bessie

    




Ask her where Destiny spilled red Kool-aid, what Charlie did to cool off, and how mailboxes feel scratching down your back side -- she will remember.  She loves laughter, music, drive-by wavings, and endless spins through the round-about on Leestown Road with Breanna and Will.  
    

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    Trust me. You have never met anyone like her.  She listens like there is no tomorrow. She is not judgmental in the least.  She bears burdens with determination and perseveres through all manner of storms.  She likes my singing--a true, unconditional love-giving friend. Obedience is her middle name.  You say "left"--she goes. Say "right"--she goes.  She is the perfect traveling companion.  She adores children--my boys loved jumping off her back while she bumped like a buggie down the lane. 
    
    Confession: There was only one time, fairly recently actually, that she acted like a teenager, howling for attention.   She learned
how to "rev her engine" big time.  I called her "Bessie with an attitude" or better yet "Big Double."  You know.  The bear who ate the back hills raw and the foothills bare and is Going. To.  Eat. You. Up.  Uh hum.  Yes, she became the Mustang of her dreams for three days.  Did I say, "RO-AR" and  "ROOOOAAAR"!

    Through 70-miles winds she did discover that she was able to "bend" a bit more than expected.  She claims flexibility (whether denting in or denting out) is a virtue.  Young kids love her; older kids, ehh, not so much.  BUT, she is not deterred.  She appears quite attractive as 17-year-olds do indeed want to pass their driving tests. Bessie is always there for them.

    Last year she lost her ability to speak.  Now that was a definite sign of aging (why oh why can't I lose mine?!).  She loves a good bath, but hasn't had one in at least two years.  (BTW: Deodorant goes farther than you think.)  She has worn through more shoes than all three of my boys combined--she especially loves puncture wounds in her soles. Ouch!  But she says I love to introduce her to nails and other sharp objects--she is always accommodating, and takes them in like a sweet southern lady ought to do.

    She hasn't a clue what to do on a hot day.  We sweat to the oldies, ourselves included.  Thank goodness she likes the windows down like I do (PS: If I always look wind-blown when you see me, now you know why. I promise that I am not trying to set a new hairstyling trend).  And if you are a thief, well, come on in!  She won't keep you out (she can't really).  Popsicle sticks help her gain a greater perspective on being "open"-minded.  (Ask my kids about this one--Bessie really aims to please.)

    Bessie is a pack mule.  She actually carried a brand new loveseat for me.  By. Her. Self.  I knew she could do it.  Part of her did collapse forward, but her heart held strong.  Speaking of...God love her heart!  She never complains about carrying groceries, plants, piglets, puppies, mulch, desks, chairs, lamps, books, or oil.    If only I could get her to carry things inside the house for me - now that would make Guinness for sure!    

    Her doctor (his name is Hugh) treats her like gold.  He knows what she needs and when she needs it.  I trust him with her life.  Only once have I ever seen Hugh get mad at Bessie.  She is, afterall, as stubborn as a Kentucky June beetle.  She hates change.  One day, she absolutely refused to let go of a rotating toy.  Hugh was fuming - at wit's end.  He threw his rags in the air like a madman.  He looked at me.  He glared at her.  She looked at me.  She glared back at him.  With a firm determination in my eyes,  I gave him permission to give her the good smacking (a pounding really) that she deserved, and without hesitation he did just that which sent her howling (see above paragraph--Ken K, Big Double has met his match!).

    Each day, I thank the Lord for Bessie.  She represents God's hand of provision to my family.   She bears the mark of almost 289,000 miles of relationship.  Now that's one long road.  She's aiming for 300K (she wants to make headline news, that's just how proud she is).  She is looking for her cap (she calls it her crown--I'm sure it is the same place my cell phone might be lying.)  She is relentless, tried, and true.  She is my hero.  She means the world to me because I see family stamped all over her.  I ain't lettin' go, and you wouldn't either if you turned the key and heard her hum.

    Her name is Bessie.