Yesterday, trouble came knocking at my door. Technically, it
was the door of my RV which is my home, so the image fits. We were nearing the
end of a ten-day trip from our winter spot in Arizona to Michigan where we plan
to spend the summer. About thirty miles from our destination, a car came
alongside, and the passenger was gesturing wildly and pointing to the back of
our rig. I pulled over. About a quarter mile behind us there was a pickup truck
on the shoulder; a man got out and walked into the weeds beside the highway.
When I walked toward the back of my trailer to see what might be wrong, I was
horrified to see that one of the trailer wheels was missing. Gone. A bare brake
drum with three broken lug bolts stared me in the face. What the…?
The pickup eventually pulled behind the trailer, and the
driver walked to me and said he had my missing wheel. He told the story of how
it had flown off and bounced in the traffic, nearly hitting his truck and
another car. He brought me the wheel and the mystery deepened. The center of
the stamped steel wheel was ripped to shreds explaining why it had come off but
offering no clue as to why it happened. I thanked him for retrieving the
wayward wheel and drove slowly on the three remaining wheels to the next
intersection where I could park in the back of a gas station.
With only two of the five lugs remaining on the drum, I
couldn’t just put on the spare tire. My first thought was that I would have to
have the missing lugs replaced. I began calling nearby service possibilities to
get it repaired. Four calls netted one place that said they might be able to
help. Since it was now 4:00 pm and they closed at 5:00, I needed a rush job.
When I the service tech looked at my damaged drum, he thought the only fix was
going to be a new drum. He thought he had one, so I rejoiced. My joy was
short-lived as we discovered that his drum was not the same size as mine.
The service tech called another place, and they said they
had the right piece. I rushed over only to find that it was the same wrong size
the first place offered. They called another place and were told that they had
the correct drum. The problem was that it was now a few minutes before 5:00 and
they closed at 5:30. They were twenty miles away. In rush hour traffic. I
punched the directions into my phone and punched the gas on the truck and said
a prayer.
I made it with about ten minutes to spare. When the tech
there looked at my drum, he was shocked. He asked what year the trailer was. I
told him it was a 2020, and he was more shocked. He said they hadn’t seen drums
that size in years. The only explanation he could think of was that the
manufacturer of my trailer had a bunch of old axles lying around and used one
on my new trailer. He said he could order one for $198.00 and it would be in
sometime next week. I thanked him but said no thanks. I got back in the truck
and headed back to the trailer to make another plan.
The service tech had suggested that I could strap up the
axle with the missing wheel and drive slowly. The problem was that there is no
place to hook a strap to lift the axle. Because I had driven several hundred
yards on three wheels to get to the gas station, I decided to try to make the thirty-mile
trip to our campground. The only further trouble I could imagine was a failure
of the one tire being burdened with the weight meant for two. It was a cool day
and a smooth road, so I decided to try it.
We made it in a little over an hour. We dropped the trailer
in our spot at 8:00 and rushed to a restaurant that was open until 9:00 for
supper. I was so happy to be there. That is the take-away from this sad tale.
Even though I had spent over four hours from the emergency roadside event until
I finally sat down to supper, I realized that I never lost control, yelled,
screamed, cried or gave any other sign of my frustration. If you know me at
all, you know that is a bona fide miracle. God granted me peace in the trouble.
So many things could have been worse. We could have been in
the middle of nowhere. The wheel could have seriously damaged my trailer when
it flew off. The wheel could have damaged another vehicle or
even hurt someone. Had the good Samaritan truck driver not stopped and
retrieved my wheel, I may never have known where it went. Had I not paid attention
to the driver who signaled me, I could have driven on for miles before knowing
what had happened. Had the imbalance caused the trailer to dip and swerve
dramatically, it might have flipped over. Had my final miles not been a smooth,
divided highway, I may not have been able to complete the trip. Had I not
arranged for a late arrival at the RV park, I would not have been able to park
in my spot. Had I not been trusting God to go with me through whatever came my
way, I would not have been a happy camper. Not at all.
As if to underscore my experience with another’s testimony,
Charles Spurgeon’s devotional for today included the following. “How
comprehensive is the love of Jesus! There is no part of his people’s interests
which he does not consider, and there is nothing which concerns their welfare
which is not important to him…. It were a sad thing for us if this mantle of
love did not cover all our concerns, for what mischief might be wrought to us
in that part of our business which did not come under our gracious Lord’s
inspection…. O my soul, tune thy harp to a glad song of thanksgiving! Go to thy
rest rejoicing, for thou art no desolate wanderer, but a beloved child, watched
over, cared for, supplied, and defended by thy Lord.”
I am no “desolate wanderer.” My heart is tuned to
thanksgiving even though yesterday had some real sucky moments. Wherever I go
and whatever befalls me and my little home on wheels, I rest in the love and
care of Jesus. Even for the trailer wheels – like the counted hairs on my head
and the sparrows He watches over. Take my little story of yesterday’s trouble
as another proof that peace is available even in trouble. All you have to do is
remember Emmanuel, God with us. He’s never failed me yet.
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