Some things you let go of easily.
This was not one of them.

I drove the same car for 14 years. Over 200,000 miles. It wasn’t special to anyone else—but it was sacred to me.

It was the car my son Jake drove in high school.
The car that saw me through late-night shifts and fresh starts.
The car that held my groceries, my tears, my kids’ backpacks, and my prayers.

It was with me when I lost jobs.
It was with me when I started over.
It was with me as I fought for my calling, built new dreams, and held onto faith when life fell apart on paper—but God kept whispering, “Not yet. Keep going.”

So no—this wasn’t just about buying a new car.

​This was a chapter closing.

It Wasn’t Broken. It Was Just Time.

What made this harder is that nothing was really “wrong” with it.

It still ran. It still got me to work.
It still did what it was designed to do.

But I’ve learned something:

Sometimes we don’t let go because something is broken.
We let go because we’ve been healed.

The car represented a season where I was surviving.
Stretching money. Stretching faith. Stretching my hope.

And God carried me through it all.

The fact that I could walk into a dealership and choose a new car wasn’t about “needing” one.
​It was about becoming a woman who could.