MATERIAL GIRL

“Living in a material world
And I am a material girl
You know that we are living in a material world
And I am a material girl”

Robert Ranns, Peter Brown

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up, knelt down before him, and asked him, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus answered him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not kill; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and your mother. He replied and said to him, “Teacher, all of these I have observed from my youth.” Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said to him, “You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to [the] poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions. Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” Mark 10:17-23

Being an annoying optimist, when I hear that scripture I assume the rich ruler was sad but he sold everything anyway and eventually was happy because he did a brave, radical act, then got to hang out with Jesus. After all it doesn't specifically say he refused to do it, only that he was sad about it. 

 

Arrogantly, I thought I had all that down just fine. I shop at thrift stores, discount groceries, even my car use to reflect my embrace of the simple life.

Not any more.  That was before gross materialism reared its ugly head.  I am still reveling in the product of my new found lust for the sparkly. It's parked right outside my door.

I had been driving a 1991 Buick LaSabre – a beast of a car. Despite my mechanic, Julio's (Julie to his friends), efforts to keep the horrible thing running, time was winning and it was falling apart. 

 

It was battleship gray, peeling everywhere, revealing hideous layers of rust underneath. I could not travel without an ample supply of water – gallons of it. Every ten to 12 minutes I would have to stop and pour water into the radiator reserve tank to prevent the engine from seizing.

It became ridiculously difficult to turn the lights out – my theory is the engine was so hot that it somehow disabled the switch. The brake light would mysteriously come on for no apparent reason.

There was no horn. That was terrible! No “Jingle Bells” on the horn at Christmas. A middle finger is not nearly as effective as a blasting horn when displaying disapproval of my fellow drivers' less than perfect skills. Just to annoy people I sometimes forgo the middle finger and offer a quick blessing – now that really is annoying!

Even worse than the lack of a horn was the sludge. That's right – sludge, thick brown disgusting sludge. Due to the gaskets around the door continuing to come off, the car leaked – badly. Eventually it formed a thick sludge. During my last few weeks of driving this bastardly car, I would actually have to lift my feet when going downhill in order to avoid the dreaded swill. I had the audacity to subject other people to this affront. I had to warn them, “Quick, lift your feet.” Obviously, I have no shame.

The past few weeks had brought more change to my family and with the change a terrible realization of the depth of a tragedy that just goes on and on – seemingly spiraling out of control.

The car was the last straw. This surprised me. I accepted my status in life and frequently joked about it. “Piece of Shit Car” the incredibly vulgar song by Adam Sandler, would cheer me up – but it was only temporary.   A palpable dread came over me when I realized that I needed to go out in the abomination. I still don't totally understand that phenomenon. Bad car depression?

For weeks I was salivating over cars on Craigs List. My hope was that my car would last until my finances improved. Sadly, it didn't. I thought it was going to catch on fire – the billowing smoke and the heat under my feet made me realize the time for a different car had arrived. 

At breakfast with a friend, who I am sure would rather not be named, I announced that I was girding myself up for the courage to call my brother and beg for a loan until my financial circumstances improved – a definite happening but with an unknown time frame. I had found a dream car on Craigs List, an oldish red Chevy Cavalier with only 41,000 miles on it.

I dreaded the call. My friend must have realized that and immediately offered to help. I felt instant relief – peace. I would not have to humble myself to ask my brother for help and my car hell was soon to be finished!

 

The Cavalier got sold too quickly for me to grab the deal. Thank God!  While I was fantasizing over those Craigs List beauties I also conducted research. I knew I needed a reliable car that would last at least two years, hopefully a heck of a lot more. I wanted a purple car or maybe a flashy red, but I found myself yearning for for a sporty vehicle, maybe this was a female version of a mid-life crisis. 
 

Accompanied by my wonderful brother-in-law, Ralph, and my sister, Nan, I made my first venture into the world of lovely cars. It was a two-door Mitsubishi Eclipse – a red one – a five speed. I soon realized that despite the fact that I knew I would look very, very cool driving around Fountain Hill in this sporty little car, I couldn't shift it easily, and it was a very poorly kept car. Logic took over. Ralph and Nan agreed.

The search continued. Ralph found a car, a burgundy Saturn that had everything I wanted. While burgundy wasn't red it was a nice looking car. 
 

Ralph offered to drive me. So off we went. It was a long drive and Ralph was a big help. The burgundy Saturn turned out to be a dud, big time. We persevered. Eventually my dream car surfaced. 

 

Our journey led us to a little car dealer, 611 Auto Sales, with not too many cars. I must admit I have a dread of going to car dealers but this place and the people there seemed really different. There was an amazing lack of bullshit. They priced the cars at a fair price to sell and that was it.  Not much haggling. One of the owners said, “I'd rather make a fast nickel than a slow dime.” Not eloquent but comforting from the consumer's point of view.
 

There were two possibilities -- a red Saturn wagon or a sweet little Mazda Protege. It was silver, something on my forbidden list – due to an association with the battleship gray of the Buick. But this was no battleship! It was gorgeous. The silver was of a pale variety, and it shimmered, it really did. It had fine navy blue pin striping.  Lovely!  Then I drove it.  I couldn't believe it. It responded to every slight correction.  There were brakes. There was air – cold refreshing air – cooling us off in the 90-degree weather. There was a horn! This was heaven.

I test drove the Saturn but it just wasn't the same. 

 

Still, I was willing to be persuaded. I went home and consulted “Edmunds'” reliability charts. I went on “Car Talk's" site – they have a terrific program that allows you to compare two vehicles side by side. The Saturn had 47,000 less miles on it but was three years older than my beautiful 2000 Mazda. 

 

Finally, I found the justification for the Mazda. Edmunds had put a red circle with an “X” next to the Saturn's engine. Yippee!!! 

 

I was a few hundred dollars short – the Mazda was just a little more expensive than the Saturn. I figured that I would make a conscious overdraft. My bank is kind enough to give me a little overdraft protection which has come in mercifully handy. When my son Peter heard that I was going to dip into the overdraft he insisted on loaning me what I needed. Both my friend and my son made me feel blessed and just so incredibly happy that people love and trust me enough to help.

So my kind brother-in-law drove me down to pick up the Mazda. His examination of the car and subsequent approval gave me confidence in my choice.

I fell in love with a car. The ugly, gas guzzling, cars with all their peculiarities are a thing of the past. I picked a car that looked pretty -- beautiful in my eyes.

I am reveling in it.

Yes! No stops for water. No smoke. No sludge! And a horn!

I asked Father Hilferty at Sacred Heart Hospital if he would mind blessing my car. He is a good, kind, and very intelligent priest – probably the best homilist I know. 

 

There we were on the parking deck on a hot day with me showing off my prize!

I told him I thought I must be committing some kind of sin for liking this car as much as I did. True to his nature, he assured me I wasn't, the car was a necessity.

He blessed my shimmering car and sprinkled it with copious amounts of holy water (he has seen me drive). 

 

The blessing was dramatic:

Lend a willing ear, Lord God, to our prayers, and bless this vehicle with Your holy right hand. Direct Your holy angels to accompany it, that they may free those who ride in it from all dangers, and always guard them. And just as by Your deacon Philip You gave faith and grace to the man of Ethiopia as he sat in his chariot reading the Sacred Word, so, point out to Your servants the way of salvation. Grant that, aided by Your grace, and with their hearts set on good works, they may, after all the joys and sorrows of this journey through life, merit to receive eternal joys, through Christ our Lord.

Wow!

I drove off reflecting on how good God was in surrounding me with so many loving people. I did pause to wonder again – about whether or not I had really taken that plunge into gross materialism.

This car made me happy. It was beautiful. I thought maybe I was liking it a bit too much. I even bought mats! I looked for just the right litter bag. This was getting ridiculous.

I'm hoping – and praying – that my seeing God in all the beautiful people – and things in my life – will somehow excuse this dip into the material world.

 

When Jesus calls, I will follow him, driving right along behind him in my little miracle car, beeping with wild abandon! 

Cut and paste below to hear another Material Girl:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gWqc7pTNn0