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As an only child, I was introduced to many surprises by the arrival of sons born in the late 1960s. For example, it puzzled me that Charles, our firstborn, was attracted to everything with wheels. Even as a toddler, he would push little cars around with the sound effects of "vroom, vroom." By age two, he and his brother, David, were either wrestling or racing through the house using various modes of transportation. When I questioned such behavior, Monty would roll his eyes and say, "It's a boy thing, Hon."

Our family progressed through the usual wheels. However, soon after graduating from the training wheels on his bicycle, Charles—always the detailed planner— began saving money for his first car. He seemed obsessed with having a car of his very own.

I assumed this was because he heard Monty, his father, reminiscing about how he baled hay on surrounding farms in West Texas to get the money to buy his first car in high school.

A rule in our family (inherited from both sides) was that you save your money and do not buy on credit because that is presumptuous about your health and future. We lived by that rule and expected our sons to have their money ready before they went shopping for a car. Monty taught them, "You are not entitled to anything except death, so set goals and get out there working to achieve them."

Another Monty Rule was for each son to take an auto mechanics course at the local college designed to help students understand everything under the hood. Charles enrolled almost as soon as he was old enough for a driver's license because he had big plans.

This was in the mid-1980s before the internet and cell phones. However, there were many sources for those searching for second-hand cars in the Houston area where we lived. Before long, Charles had purchased a sweet little Porsche 914 and had it painted red soon after. However, the 914 was soon totaled in his high school parking lot by another student driving into the rear of the 914, where the engine resided.

Not to be discouraged, Charles was in pursuit of another Porsche by the time insurance and everything was settled. This was a Porsche 911, but its condition could have been better, like the first car.

Charles announced, "I got this, Mom; I'll do all the body repairs with Bondo filler and paint it myself."

I was soon surprised by all the new smells and sights in the driveway and later in our garage. As Charles patched and fixed various places, the Porsche began coming apart on our driveway. Then, it moved into our garage. Charles figured out an ingenious way to hang and cover the entire interior of our two-car garage with sheets of plastic so Monty would let him spray-paint his car inside.

I had no problem with this decision. After all, I could still do the laundry using the washer and dryer in the garage next to the kitchen door because I would be outside the hanging plastic—if I could handle the smells. However, one day, after Charles had been working for a while, I stepped into the garage with a load of laundry and froze in horror. I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared to see his car spread all over the floor in a multitude of pieces. Some coffee cans and jars held all the nuts, bolts, and small items. Transfixed, I wondered, "How on earth is a teenager going to get all these pieces back together as a functioning vehicle?"

The end of the school year was approaching, and so was the big Jr.-Sr. Prom and Banquet at a fancy hotel in Houston. Charles was trying to finish his car to drive to the Prom with his brother and their dates. Never say "never" to a teenage boy. The 911 got put back together—with only a few nuts and bolts left over—and even a few hours to spare before leaving for the Prom.

After the boys and their dates departed for downtown Houston, Monty and I prayed for them and their safety. I couldn't get over the fact that in our garage was a jar of the "nuts and bolts" missing from someplace on the car they were riding in! What if something important fell off or came loose?

God is merciful. Our prayer was answered, and they returned home safely with only one hiccup. A big storm rolled through as they returned home, and Charles discovered—in his rush—he had installed the windshield wipers backward. So, picture him in his tuxedo, window rolled down in the rain, and reaching out with his left hand to clear off the windshield as he drove with his right hand. It was a damp way to end their lovely evening.

In the years since that event, I have often thought of my surprise and alarm when I looked at what seemed—to me—a disaster or explosion of car parts in our garage that day. Sometimes, we look at our world and think everything has "come all apart," just as Charles' car did. I find it comforting to know that the same God who created the world is still in control and answers prayer. Yes, we can trust the situation to the all-knowing Lord and lean not on our own understanding. Let us acknowledge Him in all our ways so He will direct our paths. Why? Because I—for one—am certainly thankful we are not strictly on our own trying to figure out where some missing pieces might fit in the process of getting our world functioning smoother again.

“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6 NKJV)