We sold the van today. It is a good thing. We recently got a new ride with a bigger engine to pull the camper and more seats to fit the growing carpool. It is newer and fancier and has way too many buttons. I'm still getting used to how big it is, and sometimes miss the van and it's automatic door (even though it often didn't work) and the wonderful turning radius (for all those times I go the wrong way and have to flip a U-ie), and the fact that I no longer had to worry about how sad it would be to get the first ding in the car door.
The van was the first car we bought all on our own (which means, not from my dad). We bought it when baby #3 was on the way, and we were feeling quite grown up and in need of a family-mobile. That baby never joined our family and I continued to drive around this HUGE van with only two kids for a couple more years. It sometimes felt silly to have such a big car, but it was convenient when I could pick up my sister and her two littles and we could adventure together.
Over the years that big car started to feel smaller and smaller. More bodies filled it up. More stuff got schlepped around in the back. We added a car-top carrier for long trips because the cavernous space in the back didn't seem to hold supplies for seven anymore. The van got us so very many places; to see loved ones we missed and back home when we got homesick; to practices and games and recitals; to school and work; to church; to help others; to enjoy the beauty of God's green earth.
As every mother knows, your car is your office. It is the waiting room at soccer practice, the grocery getter, the kid picker-upper. The passenger seat, until recently when my big kids decided they were tall enough to sit there, was like a filing cabinet with all the things I needed to drop off, return, not forget, and work on. The van was a second home where we listened to stories on CD together, sang out loud to our favorite songs, passed back snacks during long drives. There was that one time when we drove it all the way to Nauvoo with a newly potty-trained Lea, and for long stretches of I-80, the van became an emergency loo, too, with the baby potty tucked in behind the front seat.
Chad sold it to a family who runs a church ministry across town. I'm glad to know the van will continue to serve a family who will also make many memories in its seats.
And even though it was only a thing, and it was often sticky and grimy and smelly from the monsters who rode in it, it feels like a little part of me has said farewell.

