The 1/4 Tank

I drove today for the first time since my breakdown a week ago.  And when I say “breakdown”, I mean both the car AND my mental health.  Our mechanic extraordinaire had been working tirelessly to get our Sequoia back to road-ready.  It took three trips to Port because auto parts in Haiti aren’t exactly standard or neatly organized or easily found --no AutoZone anywhere coast to coast.  But thankfully, the guys working on our car knew where to go and how to do it and we were grateful for their help.  Last night, the mechanic came roaring up our steep driveway in a blaze of glory and we all cheered as the Sequoia was ready to roll again. 

Even though I’ve been stuck at home for a week, Jesus provided a way for the kids to get to school every day.  Their teacher and her husband live just a block from us and their ministry has an actual AMBULANCE that had been shipped to Haiti for their community outreach activities—and it runs on diesel!  They were so kind to pick up our kids every morning and bring them home after school every day.  It was just like they had their own legit bus service with the kindest bus drivers ever!  

While our personal transportation issues were covered for the week, there were other troubles brewing.  On Monday and Tuesday, the frustrations over the gas shortage came to a boil and multiple areas across Port au Prince and our community exploded in anger.  Public transportation was suspended after a tap tap (taxi) driver was killed, forcing many to walk long distances to get to work or home.  Gas was starting to trickle back in, but drivers refused to make deliveries after gangs attacked fuel trucks, shooting at them if they didn’t stop.  Armed robbers worked their way through stopped traffic, demanding money and not taking “no” for an answer.  Just along the 2 mile stretch of National Road between our house and the kids’ school, there were a several road blocks—huge boulders and burning tires—preventing the flow of traffic.  Our friend had to do some stealthy driving of that ambulance to get home safely.   While I trusted him completely, to know that my kids were out on the roads in someone else’s vehicle and I wasn’t with them stirred up **all** the anxiety in me.  I was so relieved when I heard the rumble of the diesel engine and laid eyes on what might as well have been a knight riding a white stallion come round the corner near our house.  My kids were home safe.  Now I could breathe.

So, finally being able to take my kids to school this morning felt like a joy to me.  I had not left our concrete castle for a full 7 days.  I felt strong and confident about being behind the wheel again—a sentiment that quickly faded when I discovered MASSIVE muddy ruts just a block away, created by a stupid combination of someone dumping a load of dirt in the middle of the street and heavy rains last night.    I barked at the kids to shut their pie holes because my stress just went through the roof once again.  I had to concentrate to get through the slippery swimming pool-sized craters, and then get up a steep incline before pulling out on to the National Road while trying to avoid pedestrians, motos and oncoming MACK trucks… a whispered prayer and 4 wheel drive got us safely through.  My shoulders were so tense, I thought my head might pop right off.

Fifteen minutes later, I was able to deliver the kids safely to school, but not without a few extra obstacles to navigate.  On the side road that goes to the kids’ school, someone dumped multiple loads of rock, sand, and dirt right in the main thoroughfare—presumably the same genius that left the Mount Everest of Mud on our road.  To pass, I was just angry enough to rev that bad boy and plow right through.  We all angled to the side about 45 degrees as we rolled over those mountains of frustration.    Hold on, kids!  Mama’s lost her mind!

Needless to say, I took a different route to get home in hopes of finding some better road conditions.  As I bumped along those back roads by myself in that car, my heart was calmed somewhat as I thought back to my prayer a week ago when we were down to our last little bit of gas: “Jesus, please let this ¼ tank be like the widow’s flour that never ran out.”   I was so concerned about how I was going to get the kids to school the next week and narrow-mindedly believed that gas would be the issue.

I looked down at the gas gauge, and a week later, that same ¼ tank was still in my car.  I had asked God for it, and though it wasn't the way I expected (no one really ever wants their car to break down), there it was.   Jesus whispered, “I heard you.  And look, I answered.”   That little bit of gas had NOT run out, and in the in between, God provided another way, another vehicle, to get the kids to school.  As is often the case, God accomplished it in a way I didn’t expect.  

This Sunday, September 8, is our 3 year Haiti-versary.  Gosh, we had no idea what the future would hold when we stepped off that plane.  You know, a Haiti year is like a dog year…it basically feels like seven years of life crammed into one.   With this math, I've added approximately 21 years' worth of grey to my hair.  Through the challenges and pain, one thing rises to the surface:  WE’VE SEEN GOD.  He has come through EVERY SINGLE TIME, mostly in ways that we completely could not have foreseen.   It’s in simple moments like this, like looking down at the gas gauge, I see God’s faithfulness.  He is close, and He is there, in the hard, in the hot, in the frustrating, in the mud, and in the pain.

This challenges me today:  the thought of this widow, who was willing to give everything though it was little, and in the end, she was witness to the miraculous.   What is God asking us to give?  And are we willing to give it all?  Even when we’re down to our last tiny bit of whatever it is—time, energy, money, food, strength, or gas—I want to remember this truth:  “God often asks us to offer what is left to do with it greater than our little minds could ever imagine.”  --Paul Tripp