Thanksgiving, Run-Flat Tires, and the Gospel According to Mom

My friend bought her daughter a car. Not a fancy one—no heated seats, no moonroof, no button that launches it into orbit. Just a good ol’ reliable vehicle to get her from dorm room to dining room and back again for those sacred college holidays like Thanksgiving, when students return home to eat, sleep, and pretend they still remember how to do laundry.

One day, the daughter had a flat tire. No big deal—she had AAA on speed dial, right next to “Mom” and “Pizza.” She called the flat tire hotline and waited for the cavalry. The AAA guy showed up, popped the trunk, checked under the mat, looked in the glove box, maybe even peeked under the seats. No spare tire. No jack. No tools. Just a lot of empty space and one very confused roadside technician.

Cue the anguished phone call to Mom: “Mom! There’s no spare tire! I’m stranded! The car is broken! The dealership sold us a lemon! I’m going to die here next to the Chick-fil-A!”

Now, I know this mom. She’s articulate. She’s passionate. She’s fluent in “colorful metaphors.” I’ve heard her use her big girl words before, and let’s just say she doesn’t need a thesaurus when she’s fired up. She called the dealership and unleashed a verbal tsunami. Somewhere in the background, I imagine the receptionist ducking under the desk and whispering, “It’s her. The metaphor lady.”

Just as Mom was winding up for Round Two, the dealership guy calmly asked, “Ma’am, is your daughter’s car a 2023 model?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

“Well,” he said, “that car comes with run-flat tires. You can drive up to 50 miles on a flat. There’s no spare because you don’t need one.”

Silence.

Then a dial tone.

I don’t think Mom apologized. I think she just hung up and prayed the Holy Spirit would interpret her sighs.

Now, I’m grateful this wasn’t my story. But let’s be honest—I drive cars with spare tires. I think. I mean, I assume they’re in there somewhere. Probably under the mysterious carpet flap in the trunk next to the ancient granola bar and the rogue umbrella. Maybe I should check.

But this story made me laugh. It reminded me that sometimes we panic before we understand. We yell before we read the manual. We assume the worst before we remember that God might’ve already built in a solution.

And that brings me to Thanksgiving. It’s almost here. Can you believe how fast this year flew by? I blinked and it was Advent again. I’m thankful for so much—especially for you, dear reader. You’ve prayed for us, encouraged us, and shared stories that have become sermons, devotionals, and the occasional punchline.

I’m thankful for my church family, my neighbors, and the beautiful traffic chaos of life in Ruston, Louisiana. I’m thankful for the characters in my life—especially the ones who call me with flat tire emergencies and teach me new vocabulary.

So, this Thanksgiving, take a moment. Look at life through grateful eyes. Even the flat tires. Even the missing spares. Even the run-flat moments when you realize God’s grace lets you keep going, even when you feel deflated.

Thank you for being part of the ride. And if you’re wondering whether your car has a spare… maybe check before you call Mom.