Last night at about 3 am, the doorbell rang. There is only one person who will ring your doorbell in the middle of the night: a policeman. There were several cruisers and SUVs stopped on Market Street right in front of our house. Our car had been the victim of a hit-and-run about an hour before that. The side was bashed in, the front door won't open, the side mirror was ripped off, and the tire was punctured and flat. That tire was only 6 weeks old. I just stood in the street and shook my head in complete disbelief. This is our only car. How would we get to church? Take Flower to school? Go to Target? It took us a couple of hours to get back to sleep, and then kids woke up way too early. Luckily, church now starts at 1 instead of 9, so we had time to find a ride. We still haven't fully worked out the rest of the car situation. We don't know if insurance will pay for our rental car or not. The repair will take a l-o-n-g time.

The good news is there was a car behind the guy who hit us who saw the whole thing. He called the police and they caught the guy. He was, of course, drunk. We are just thankful that it happened overnight and not while we were in the car.