Our old, cracked driveway needed help when we bought our cottage 11 years ago, but driveways are low priority when home improvements begin.

Last week, however, a man wearing tar-decorated clothes knocked on my door with an offer to make my drive look and stay beautiful. “I guarantee for 3 years,” he said with confidence, handing me his business card.

We negotiated a price and set a day. The asphalt expert arrived despite the threat of a cloudburst, and he brought along a tar-decorated partner: his blond, blue-eyed wife.

Never have I seen a woman spreading black goo on a driveway, but Diane added the attention to detail most men miss. She used a broom to spread the tar perfectly at the edges, taking care not to touch our concrete sidewalk or retaining wall.

The three of us became friends, because we ended up spending more than the average driveway-tarring time together. Ten minutes after they finished, a cloudburst dumped its load on their fresh work, “bursting” for 24 hours.

Diane and Charles returned two days later to assess the damage, and two days after that re-did the whole job. Their good cheer impressed me as they worked just as carefully the second time around without any additional money. They even posed for a photo.

As they left, Charles said, “Remember. Three years. Call me if any part of this driveway doesn’t make you completely happy.”

Covering the ravages of time is tricky. I try to do it every morning on my face with Cover Girl concealer. All of us attempt to cover certain secrets now and then, and not just on our skin.  Often relationship issues get buried under a thin veneer of “all-is-well.”  Then when storms come, the cracks get exposed.

For example, we widows are famous for covering the flaw of  sadness. Just as driveway crevices can be covered with tar, a widow’s grieving can be covered with activity, denial or friends. It works for a time, but rain-like tears eventually expose fault-lines, and sooner or later they need filling.

When Charles and Diane finished my driveway for the second time, Charles pointed out something special. “See these cracks?” he said. “I filled them with melted rubber, not tar. In three years when my guarantee expires and your driveway needs tar-touching up, that rubber will still be there, expanding and contracting with the seasons. It’s tough stuff.”

What is a widow’s “tough stuff?” It’s found only in God. His sustenance supplies her with the give and take she needs to weather ongoing storms and temperature changes. He’ll empower her to expand and contract with flexibility as she learns to live alone without fear.

And how does she get his supply? By detailing her needs in prayer, by watching for God’s provision, and by counting on him to fill her empty places.

When my driveway begins to look patchy and needs a tar-redo, I’m confident God will see to it that just like the tougher rubber-filled cracks, I’ll still be in tact.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.” (Romans 15:13a)