Today I gave my husband very bad advice.
Not possibly bad advice. Not advice that merely needed further consideration.
Bad advice. 😂
Our car has been parked for almost a month. And because we use it to make income, this month has been heavy. Heavy on the pocket, heavy on the heart, and, if I am honest, heavy on my husband. He has seemed quieter lately—tired, discouraged, and perhaps wondering which problem to solve first.
This morning, I woke up carrying confidence that was completely unsupported by mechanical knowledge.
I told him, “This car does not have a serious problem. The garage is only about a mile away. Drive slowly, and you will get there.”
He had wanted to call a towing company from the beginning.
But I looked at the towing cost and thought, Why spend all that money when the car has an engine, four tyres, and only one mile to travel?
Suddenly, my husband—who had been discouraged for two weeks—became motivated. My faith entered him. Unfortunately, it never entered the car. 😂
He said, “Okay, then come with me.”
Immediately, my confidence began packing its bags.
I had a prayer meeting in twenty minutes, and we needed to pick up the children shortly afterwards. Two things could happen: I could miss my meeting, or we could fail to collect the children.
Actually, three things could happen.
The car could cough twice, move less than 500 metres, and announce:
“I have tried. I am tired. I would now like to sleep in the middle of the road.”
And that is exactly what it did.
So there sat my husband, hazards blinking, calling the same towing company he had wanted to call before I arrived with my anointed transport strategy. Meanwhile, I was laughing and feeling guilty at the same time because, honestly, what else could I do? 😂
Thankfully, someone came to help him. They advised him not to take the car back to the dealer because it might become too expensive, and instead helped him take it directly to a transmission specialist.
The car is now at the transmission shop.
Was my advice good?
Absolutely not.
But did it move us forward?
Strangely, yes.
That car might have remained parked for another two weeks while we continued worrying, planning and postponing. My bad advice forced us to take one uncomfortable step. The step lasted only 500 metres—but it led to the tow truck, the right connection and finally, the transmission shop.
And perhaps that was my second lesson today.
God has been teaching me to flow with Him in this season.
I love plans. I can plan my morning, follow every task, remain focused all day and sit down in the evening feeling wonderfully accomplished. Planning makes me effective—but sometimes I become so loyal to the plan that I leave no room for the Holy Spirit to interrupt me.
There will be a time for plans and strategies. But right now, I feel God saying, “Flow with Me.”
Allow room for the unexpected.
Allow room for the road to turn.
Allow room for something outside the box.
Allow room even for the car to stop after 500 metres—because sometimes what looks like another disaster is the very thing that finally breaks the paralysis and moves you towards help.
So today, we are flowing.
The car is finally being examined. My husband is still speaking to me, although I do not understand why he is not yet mad. And I have learned that sometimes faith moves mountains…
…and sometimes it moves a broken car just far enough to make you call the tow truck you should have called in the first place. 😂😂
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