Loved in the Locked-Out

So today I did something for the first time ever. I locked myself out of the house. The way I did it is a convoluted story, too long and trivial to tell here, but the point is, I was locked out. I found out rather quickly too, since my car key and house key are on the same ring, so as I approached my car and realized the keys I was carrying weren't the right ones, it hit me.

I called a friend, but she was busy and couldn't help. I texted a friend who has James Bond-like skills at breaking into things - he said he couldn't help. I called several locksmiths, and the only one who answered told me that the cost to open the lock would be $39 for traveling to my house, and then $15 or more depending on the complexity of the lock. I quickly vetoed that idea, remembering that my landlord has a key, and she just lives across town. Finally, I broke down and texted her. I didn't want to, because she works more hours than anyone I know and I didn't want to bother her on a Saturday. But I did, and she told me she was an hour away so I texted her that I'd just call a locksmith. So what else would a girl do in a desperate situation but update her facebook status?

Cassie is locked out of her house.

I sat on the porch in the bright sun and thought to myself, wow, you're handling this really well. I wasn't mad at myself. I wasn't panicked. I wasn't irritated at the prospect of possible hours of my day being lost to this mistake. And this was a big deal. I didn't grow up in a household of much grace in the area of mistake-making. I rarely allowed myself to err and became an ultimate perfectionist. Small mistakes would shatter me. Large mistakes... well, I just didn't make any of those. To give you an idea, I took the Law School Admissions Test after college, and decided not to go to law school after I got my score. It wasn't a bad score, more like average. My reasoning: If I couldn't enter law school with a top score, then I just wasn't going to go. A high score would be God's signal to me that law school was His will for my life. (At any rate, it wasn't His will for my life, and whew, am I glad I figured that out before I spent the money and the time!) When I moved to Florida, I met people who lived completely free of the bonds of perfectionism. They allowed themselves room to make mistakes and showed me how I could do the same. It transformed me. Don't get me wrong - I still want to be right, and correct, and infallible. Still a struggle. But I've grown a lot.

Back to the story. Within seconds of reading my facebook status, a friend texted me and asked me first if I wanted him to break into my house (I said no) and second if I wanted to ignore the problem and go get Chinese food. So off we went. Still, not worried. After eating, we went to my new house, I took a few more pictures, and then I decided to call the locksmith. My friend dropped me off at my door and I there I was again, waiting for the guy to come. Still happy. Still unbothered at this whole thing.

A big white box van pulled up, the kind that kidnappers use. A young guy with curly hair and aviators came up to the walk, speaking on his phone in another language. He approached me and looked at the lock. After inspecting it, he said, "If I can pick it, it'll be $110. If I have to drill it, it's going to be $149. Cash or credit?"

I gasped. $149? When a key was across town?! This was crazy! "I'm sorry, I can't do that. That's more than I can afford. Thanks anyway. I'll just pay you your travel fee."

"Well how much did you think it would be?" he asked.

"Like $55 dollars! It's not a complex lock! It's not deadbolted. I just can't swing it that price. Thanks though."

He motioned for me to wait as he got his phone. "Here," he said after having a short conversation in another language. "You talk to my boss."

I took the phone. "Ma'am, the best we can do is $110. If you pay cash." I was still not able to do this. I explained it to him and handed back the phone to the man with the aviators. He spoke a few minutes longer.

"My boss just said the best we can do is $65."

Now I was ticked. This was unbelievable. How does one go from $149 to $65 in the matter of minutes? They would've taken the full amount and ran if I would've been willing and desperate enough. This was a matter of principle now.

"No. I'm sorry. I'll pay you for your travel and use another option." I reached into my purse and handed him two $20 bills. He took them, ripped a receipt out of his book, tossed it at me, and walked away. As his van pulled away, I looked at the receipt. He didn't even give me the $1 change I was due. And now, I was still in the same position as I had been before his visit, just $40 poorer.

It was then that the tears began. How could I be so stupid? I did not want to ask my landlord for help after I had already told her I was getting a locksmith. Wouldn't I look like an idiot? Incompetent? Like a failure? The warm tears ran down my cheeks as I cried there on the front porch. I had no idea what to do, so I just sat there and cried.

All of a sudden, I heard a car horn. It startled me and I jumped a little, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I turned around, and a woman emerged from the car. It was my landlord! At the exact moment that I needed her most! She walked up the sidewalk to me and I walked to her. She said, "We figured we would just stop by to make sure you got in okay." I hugged her for a long time.

She didn't have to come. She hadn't been asked to come - I had been too proud to do that. But she came anyway, unsolicited.

This whole day was proof that I still have a ways to go in breaking out of my own self-sufficiency and pride. I hesitate to ask anything of anyone that would put them out. I wish I could do everything on my own so as not to bother anyone. The truth is, no man is an island. We need each other. And in situations like these, God is able to show his love to me through people - people who listen to Him, who care, who don't think it's a big deal to drive a few miles to make sure a girl can get into her house.