Pranks

It began with a loud thwack to my dorm room door. Followed by another. My roommate and I woke up with a start. “What was that?” She turned on a light. To our horror a colored liquid was flowing across our floor at a rate of speed that required action – quick!

Someone had broken balloons filled with colored water at the base of our door. In the middle of the night! No other room in our cube was hit. No one fessed up. It was a mystery. Who? Why?

Then my poor car became the target.

To give you some context, I graduated from college over thirty years ago. (Gulp! That number is sobering.) Decades before laptops and cell phones, let alone the Internet, IPods and IPads. Completing a research paper meant hours in the library searching through card catalogs, the stacks, microfiche, professional journals and impatiently waiting for the arrival of inter-library loans.  It meant waiting for an available typewriter with a typewriter eraser or, better yet, Liquid Paper close at hand. But I digress.

My always generous grandmother gave me the money to buy a car when I was nineteen. My bachelor uncle got volunteered to take me car shopping. It didn’t take long. I found what I wanted at the first dealership we visited. A 1975 VW Beetle in bright yellow with black trim. Four on the floor and the wonderful engine sounds that only a Bug could make. I was thrilled! My uncle thought I was crazy! And I named her Myrtle.

Did I know the heating system would leave me shivering in our frigid winters? No. Did I know my bright Bug would become the target of pranks that would leave me fearful, shaking and in tears? No!

I didn’t use my car every day. I lived in a dorm on campus so I parked Myrtle on campus. I frequently walked to work. I welcomed the mind-clearing blocks of semi-solitude.

One day I was met with a sight that left me stunned. My car was turned sideways in the parking space. Yep, Myrtle's nose was inches from the passenger door of one car and her rear bumper was inches from the driver door of another. Oh, it fit quite nicely! I worked for a l-o-n-g time moving inch-by-inch, forward and reverse until my little car was free from her predicament. I was late for a dental appointment. Did they believe my less-than-believable story? No!

I chalked it up to someone having fun at my expense. I moved  Myrtle to a different lot and I just put it out of my mind. Until….

One day I chose to drive to work instead of walking. I jumped in Myrtle and she wouldn’t move. Forward or backward. Not an inch. Not a fraction of an inch. I couldn’t imagine what was going on. I knew very little about cars (a condition that has not changed, I might add!). All I really knew was I had to get to work.

Puzzled, I stepped out of my car and looked under it. Oh, come on! Cement blocks were expertly placed so no one could see them at a glance. The tires were off the ground by less than half an inch. I had no time to think about it. I ran the ten blocks to work. I flew through the door of Don’s Super Valu and headed straight to the assistant manager. I explained my situation. He looked a bit amused as he told me I should have called to let them know I was going to be late. Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that? A group of guys from work were gracious enough to rescue my Bug from its pickle. And I became the proud new owner of four cement blocks!

I began choosing parking spots as out-of-the-way as possible, preferably remote. But how do you hide a bright yellow Bug? Keep in mind this was before mini vans and SUV’s expertly concealing cars from view. Myrtle could be spotted anywhere due to its unique shape and its bright color. I appreciated that when I exited malls at Christmastime but I felt helpless now. And scared.

And I made a mistake. I parked in a very visible lot in the heart of the campus. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I returned to the lot several days later. Myrtle was out in the middle of the lot. Not in a parking space mind you but right smack in the aisle in everyone’s way.  And under her windshield wiper was a stack of tickets! My heart sank…twice.

I grabbed the tickets and drove straight to the campus security office. I was shaking. And crying. I told the clerk my situation. After sympathetically listening to my story, she agreed I shouldn’t have to pay the tickets.  I couldn’t thank her enough. I didn’t have the money to pay one of the tickets let alone several of them.

And the pranks stopped as suddenly as they had begun.

The school year came to a close and I moved off campus with a bunch of friends. As I sat on the porch one sunny summer afternoon, one of my housemates handed me a letter. It was from an old boyfriend who had graduated a couple of months earlier. I had no idea how he got my address or why he was writing at all. 

Curiously, I read it. And the puzzle pieces fell into place.

It was an apology. For not treating me the way I deserved to be treated. For breaking up with me. And for being an accomplice in his flatmate’s quest to make my life miserable.

They had been on my suspect list but I had zero proof. We’d all been in choir together. I knew these guys well. I’d hung out at their apartment. We’d spent countless hours together in rehearsals, performances, and choir tours. We’d ridden the same bus all the way to New Orleans and back. I appreciated the apology but in some ways it hurt even more.

I never heard from my old boyfriend again. Or his flatmate. But I wondered why I had become the recipient of his wrath. Sure, I’d witnessed how his playfulness could be tipped with meanness. But, why me? Then I remembered. I had rebuffed his interest in me. It was just an instant in time. I guess that was all it took.

Have you ever felt tormented? By people, dreams or memories?  I’ve known all of these. I’ve felt helpless and alone, scared and anxious about what’s next.

Years have gone by. I’m not that frightened young woman anymore.

What’s changed? My life does not belong to me anymore. I gave it to Jesus Christ.

Sure I have dreams and visions that may be concerning but I’ve learned to turn them over to the Lord of my life. I ask for wisdom and revelation. Are there spiritual implications? Am I under spiritual attack or is there some action I am being called to?  

And I take authority, the authority that Jesus has given me. There is no need to be frightened. He’s got me.

Do people hurt me, disappoint me, make my life miserable at times? Of course but I remember how God sees me and I can let it go. I can forgive and move on. I can choose new playmates in a new playground if that is God’s desire for me.

I am free!  Fear will not defeat me!

And years later what did I buy? A bright red New Beetle! In all the years we had Oskar, he was always where we left him and in the condition we left him. J

(This is one of several posts I intend to make dealing with fear so stay tuned!)