Nothing Left But Fumes

I remember certain times when I was much younger and we were out either for a long drive or for vacation that my dad either did not pay attention or did not figure out correctly the mount of fuel that he had in the car.

There were some times that we would be driving along and, all of a sudden, there would be this knocking sound and the car would begin to lurch gently, surging forward and then slowing down.  Dad would utter one of his famous words, we would look at each other, and, invariably, an argument would begin about who would get stuck walking to the gas station for a can of gas.

Running out of gas, back then, was not that bad.  It was easy to walk somewhere close for gas and to bring it back to the car.  Nowadays, if a car runs out of gas, because of fuel pumps and other things, running out can cause major problems and cost a lot of money.

Running of of gas can cause you to miss getting to your destination on schedule.  It can cause a lot of problems for a lot of people.

I really identify with that idea because, in many ways, I am running out of gas as well.  These past few months have not been good ones for me.  I have been sick a lot lately, especially with an extended run of bronchitis due to an especially bad allergy season this year.  We have had several things going on at the parish and the school that have taken a lot of energy out of me as well.  The biggest drain of energy has been our capital improvement project that we have begun this week.  I don’t know if I will survive to the end of the year.

Right now, I feel like that old car that is knocking and surging.  There is no opportunity for fuel in the immediate future.  Because of schedules and a copious amount of funerals, I haven’t even had a chance to take a day off.  The only thing “saving” me is a retreat that I have scheduled in five weeks.  If I can make it to five weeks, I will be able to have a week off to pray and renew myself, to recharge the ol’ spiritual batteries, to refuel.

I need it bad.

Until then, this ol’ carcass is going to continue to knock and surge, knock and surge, knock and surge . . . hoping that there are enough fumes in the tank to make it to the next gas station.

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