Defender One Ten

If ever I doubt myself, my ability or my inspiration… If ever I feel that I’ve gone terribly off course or that I’ve failed in my purpose… I hope to remember the Defender One Ten.

I am writing a second book, the sequel to Seen, following Paul through an unsettling blow to his ego. I’ve not been a fourteen-year-old boy, though I’ve survived three of them as a mother, each son as different as can be. Discovering Paul’s voice has stretched me.

One funny change in me is the awe and wonder I’ve gained for beautiful vehicles, fantastic cars— something I could never have pictures about myself. I’ve picked up Paul’s car crush for the Land Rover Defender One Ten, and I’ve got it bad.

Yesterday, after a full day of writing, I left Paul behind to drive my daughter to her ballet lessons. The drive is long and I was fretting along the way, worried that I was bringing Paul too far into a worldly spiral for a book about spiritual light.

As I turned into the tiny parking lot, there it was! A classic Defender One Ten! My daughter rolled her eyes (fourteen-year-old girls are fun, too) as I lost my mind over the navy blue and black beauty.

A dance dad was sitting in the right front behind the steering wheel— how cool is that?!— and when I gestured to ask if I could take a picture, he came out to say hello.

“Would you like to sit inside, he asked?” offering me his spot. Later I realized that I’d climbed into a strange man’s car without qualms and immediately texted my husband to celebrate.

I could go on and on about the interior, the height, or the back jump seats. I could tell you what I admire about its rugged utility. I could! But that’s not what this post is about.

The moment I saw the Defender and read the words One Ten, I felt the loving assurance from my Heavenly Father, reminding me that He is with me in the writing process. He sees me and knows me and thinks well enough of my work to send me supportive sticky notes.