The Car That Didn't Like Fall

It happened the first fall I was here - the first fall I owned my little car.

The alarm would go off at seemingly random times (I theorized that perhaps something about the changing temperatures freaked the wiring out or something).  It would be annoying enough if it were an ordinary car alarm, but mine sounded like a dying animal or huge bullfrog being tortured.  Croaaakkk.  Croaaakkk.  Croaaakkkkkk.

Awful.

Particularly awful when it would wake me in the middle of the night.  I'd jump up, heart pounding, grab sandals, and bolt outside to turn it off before it could disturb the neighbors.

The same thing happened each year, around the same time.  The weather would get a little cooler, and the alarm would start to go off again.  I'd panic and have a hard time falling asleep at night.  What if the stupid thing goes off tonight?

This year I'd had enough.  A car alarm shouldn't rule my life or my sleep, shouldn't be enough to make me quake and quiver.

But the problem was I'd already given it so much space in my head, letting the fear become a habit.  I couldn't just will it away or talk myself out of it.

I'm thankful God doesn't mock or belittle me when I come to Him with things like this.  He is sympathetic, ready to help, and invites me to bring whatever is troubling me.  Even a car alarm.