Shortly after I learned to drive my parents gave me a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. I loved that car, and kept it for many years. It survived my first marriage, a cross-country move, a divorce, and the move back home. I was still driving it when I met my permanent husband, and we drove it on our honeymoon.

Finally after 15 years I decided to sell it. Within minutes of signing the title over to the new owners I regretted that decision. I mourned the loss of that car for several years. After two years I had almost gotten used to it being gone, but still missed it anytime I saw a similar car on the road.

Christmas rolled around. My husband and I have a tradition that my biggest gift from him is always opened last. This particular Christmas the package was rather small. I had been trying for weeks to guess what it might be, but couldn’t figure it out. Finally I got to open it, and found that my wonderful husband had built me a model of my Cutlass, even painting it the same color. I was delighted, but it was a bittersweet feeling, because the model made me miss the real thing even more.

Then he started showing me the detail of the model. It had the same interior and steering wheel. Next he told me that the hood even opens, and it has the same engine. Lifting the hood I found a set of keys. I instantly recognized them as belonging to my car. In disbelief I asked him what they were for. I was overjoyed to hear him say “I bought your car back for you; we can pick it up this afternoon.”

Several years later we had the car completely restored, and we still drive it to church once a month.