Something has gone wrong.

That’s okay.

Nothing works forever.

This isn’t a perfect world.

But we have gifts—skills, tools, experience.

We can fix things.

All it takes is the right perspective.

Approach the problem with an open mind.

Analyze the issue.

Look for the obvious.

Track the flow.

Watch for the break.

Then: repair the crack, replace the part, mend the tear, heal the wound.

Unless—

the problem is intermittent.

I fear the intermittent.

It’s unreliability at its worst.

The father of instability.

And for me—

the birth of despair.

I want a world where the car starts every time.

Until one day, it doesn’t.

Then I fix it.

And it starts again for another year or two.

Simple.

What I don’t want is a car that starts sometimes.

That runs for three days, then stalls in the intersection.

That makes me doubt it, every single time I turn the key.

You can’t plan with intermittent flaws.

You can’t build your day on maybe.

We say “God willing,” because we know the world can change in an instant.

But intermittent… that’s something else.

It teases stability.

It mimics function.

It tells you: “Everything’s fine now. Don’t worry.”

And then it vanishes—just long enough to make you lose trust.

And you can’t fix what isn’t visibly broken.

We had a microwave like that.

First, the turntable would spin when the door opened.

Strange, but manageable.

Then the microwave engine turned on—with the door open.

That’s dangerous.

Time to replace it.

But the next morning?

It worked.

Perfectly.

A resurrection.

The microwave, I imagined, remembered its years of loyal service and decided to redeem itself.

It worked for several days.

Then—sudden death.

Total failure.

Because even intermittent isn’t intermittent forever.

What’s true of machines is true of people, too.

People are reliable.

Until, sometimes, they’re not.

And when the flaw is intermittent, it’s harder.

Harder to see.

Harder to trust.

Harder to fix—from the inside or the outside.

But unlike appliances, the solution is not replacement.

We live through the intermittent.

We encourage.

We reach back to the stable past.

We try to extend the reliability, hour by hour.

We learn to adjust.

We learn to yield.

We learn—again and again—that intermittent means:

This too shall pass.