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The Uncalling
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The Uncalling
I was just as driven to end Pocket Full of Quarters 2005 as I was to begin it. Once I felt led to get home, all I could think about was getting home. I was in El Paso, Texas on Interstate 10 when I felt this “uncalling.” I had just found out my speaking engagement in Houma, Louisiana was cancelled due to Hurricane Katrina and suddenly I wanted to get home. The “uncalling” for Pocket Full of Quarters 2005 was just as strong as the “calling.”
Because of Hurricane Katrina, I had to drive north from Interstate 10 to Interstate 40 before I could head east. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had re-routed across the crowded and rough highways of Interstate 40. Wind gusts grabbed and shoved Happy as I wove beside and between bumper-to-bumper semi trucks while gripping the steering wheel and trying to stay on the road. What had been leisurely 3-4 hour driving days became 10-12 hours of driving per day.
Driving through Texas and Oklahoma, I made frequent stops, continuing the ministry. From Arkansas on, I was traveling through states I’d already visited and once I hit the Arkansas state line, I drove like a woman possessed. I had promised Bob I would avoid speeding tickets. Thank goodness for “cruise control” because without it, my “self control” would have failed.
“Cheryle, please be careful,” Bob implored as he noted how many miles I’d driven in a day. “Take your time. Don’t take chances.”
“Honey, I’m being careful but I’ve trusted God throughout this journey and now I feel Him telling me to come home. I had trouble sleeping last night because I wanted to be driving. I have to trust my instincts.”
I must confess to an ulterior motive for getting home quickly that I prayed wasn’t interfering with the “calling.” Bob was going to be spending 6 weeks in California with his robot. We’d said our goodbyes in Phoenix, Arizona the week before when we’d celebrated our anniversary. I didn’t expect to see him again until I flew to California to join him on October 6th for the robot race, The DARPA Grand Challenge. With the canceled speaking engagement, I realized that if I hurried, I could spend a couple of unexpected romantic days with my sweetheart before he left of California. I felt God smile at my enthusiasm to see Bob and knew I had His blessings.
I got a late start on Sunday because of church and drove all day. I warily watched the setting sun, knowing how hard it was to find a campground and set up after dark, but I couldn’t stop driving.
Starving, at 7:00 PM, I made a 15 minute stop at a Wal*Mart Super Center parking lot, grabbing cold chicken and a package of baby carrots to eat on the road. At 9:00 PM, I passed through Memphis, Tennessee and headed east on Highway 78. Shortly after getting on 78, I passed another Wal*Mart Super Center, this time crowded with RV’s, semi trucks, and people sleeping in their cars. A large truck that said “Donations for Hurricane Katrina” sat next to the store.
God, am I safe to spend the night here? The parking lot was bright with lights and I noticed a small security truck with flashing lights circling the parking lot. I went inside and a frail gray haired Wal*Mart greeter whose face was lined with years of smiling said cheerfully, “Welcome to Wal*Mart.”
“Thank you,” I grinned. “Wal*Mart is my favorite store. I know people spend the night in Wal*Mart parking lots but I never have. Do you think it’s safe for a female traveling alone?”
“You’re in Mississippi so you’re safe,” he joked. “If you’d stopped in Tennessee, I couldn’t make that promise.” I had wondered what state I was in. We talked for a moment as I told him about Pocket Full of Quarters. “I’m not sure it’s safe anywhere for a female traveling alone,” he gently chided. “But I reckon Wal*Mart is about the safest place you can stay. We have 24-hour security cameras. Our security man doesn’t do much but he does circle the parking lot every 15 minutes. We’re always open and the parking lot stays lit up. Park near other RV’s and you’ll be fine. If you need anything, just come in and ask.”
“Can I run my generator all night?” I asked hopefully. Most primitive campgrounds only allow generators before 9:00 PM.
“Sure thing,” he grinned. “Everyone else does.”
I left the greeter and walked through Wal*Mart to do some guilt shopping. After all, I rationalized as I put a pair of unneeded jeans in the basket, they allow overnight camping so campers will shop here. I owe them this. Besides, a campground would have cost me $25.
I got back to Happy with my 3 pairs of new jeans and told Belle in my best sing songie voice , “We’re at our campground.”She got excited but as I walked and cleaned up after her in the tiny strip of grass between parking places, she wasn’t convinced we were really camping. When one of the semi trucks made the loud “whooshing” trucker noise, Belle bolted for Happy. I opened the door and pulled up into Happy without benefit of my stepping stool. When I get home, I’m replacing the running board, I promised myself.
I worked for a couple of hours and finally set Happy up for bed. I hadn’t slept with the generator running all night before. Belle slept right by the window over the generator tail pipe and I briefly fretted about carbon monoxide poisoning. I didn’t want Belle to be my “canary” that tested for gas. I tossed and turned all night, anxious to be driving home. I lost track of the number of times the comforting lights of the security truck lit up Happy. I couldn’t believe I was sleeping in the Wal*Mart parking lot.
At 6:00 AM, I gave up on sleep. Wal*Mart doesn’t supply showers but they do sell oversized moist towelettes designed to replace showers. I did my morning devotions and began driving again.
God may have been directing me to get home but He still had plans for my time. It was as if He had grown more directed and efficient with the time constraints of traveling long hours. At every stop, He immediately sent someone to talk with. I would step out of Happy and almost bump into someone who needed to talk about God. Amazingly, they usually started the conversation. I wanted to be driving but I knew better than to cut these “Devine Appointments” short.
As it grew later, Bob fretted. “It’s time to find a campground. You didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I’ll just drive a little while longer,” I said.
“Don’t take any chances,” he begged.
“I feel great,” I assured him. “I stopped and got a book on tape and it is keeping me entertained.” At 8:00 PM, I saw a sign that said, “The best campground in America.” I debated about stopping. When I couldn’t make myself stop at the best campground in America, I knew I would be driving all the way to Gainesville.
At around 10:00 PM, I entered Florida just west of Tallahassee. I called Bob excitedly. “I’m in Florida and finally back Interstate 10. I’ll be home around 1:00 AM.”
“Be careful,” he pleaded.
“Go on to bed,” I encouraged. “You have an early day tomorrow.”
“Yeah, right” he said wryly. “You think I could sleep with you driving this late?”
I felt guilty for worrying Bob but kept driving. I guess Pocket Full of Quarters 2005 is over, I thought sadly. I’m going to miss sleeping in Happy. Aloud I said, “Belle, we’re almost home! Belle started barking and ran to the window. I felt guilty for getting her excited too soon. “I’m sorry Belle,” I said. “All gone.” Dejected, she sat back down, knowing there was no point in looking out the window.
Since it was so late and I didn’t expect to make any more stops, I figured the “Divine Appointments” for Pocket Full of Quarters 2005 were over. That shows how much I knew. Right after I got on Interstate 10, I started feeling a bumping in the tires. I suspected it was rough road but it was so steady, I grew concerned. At the next rest area, I pulled off the road to examine Happy’s tires.
The rest area was crowded with truckers and cars filled with people and stuff. Everywhere, people were wandering through the rest area or sitting at picnic tables. I realized I was looking at people displaced because of Hurricane Katrina. As I pulled up, a Highway Patrolman immediately walked over with a flashlight. “Are you traveling alone?” he asked worriedly, looking around at the people in the rest area. The message was clear. He didn’t think I was safe alone in that rest area.
“Yes,” I explained. “I stopped because I was worried about my tires. It seemed like they were bumping.”
“Let’s take a look,” he said. He shined his light as we walked around Happy. “I don’t see anything wrong. What’s Pocket Full of Quarters?” he asked as he shined his light on the side of Happy.
“I’m a traveling Christian missionary,” I said. “I’m almost home. I’m headed to Gainesville, Florida. I’ve been to 42 states. Are you a Christian?”
He sighed. “Yes, I’m a born again Christian. I’ve gone to the same church all my life and have never questioned it. Suddenly, I’m full of questions. I want the truth and for the first time in my life, I’m looking around. A friend of mine is Mormon and he’s trying to get me to visit his church. They’re good people so I’m thinking about it.”
“Has something changed in your life recently?” I probed. “Is there something that has you asking questions?”
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m recently divorced. I’m forty years old, have 2 children, and am still going to the church my parents attend. I think it’s time I start thinking for myself.”
“Do you blame your parents for the divorce?” I asked gently.
“Their interfering didn’t help,” he said bitterly. “They try to make all of my decisions for me.”
“What about your relationship with God?” I asked. “Do you have one? Do you read the Bible?”
“My relationship’s probably not as good as it could be but it’s good enough. I read my Bible often,” he replied.
“What about Jesus. You said you were born again. Do you believe He is the Son of God?”
“Of course!” he said adamantly.
“Do you also believe He is God?” I continued.
He was clearly startled by the question. “God and Jesus are one and the same.”
“You sound sure,” I noted.
“I am!” he insisted incredulously.
“You said you had questions but it doesn’t sound like those questions are about God, Jesus, and the Bible. You mentioned possibly visiting the Mormon church. Did you know that the Mormons don’t believe in the deity of Jesus?”
“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t. My friend told me he was a Christian and believed in Jesus.”
“They do believe Jesus is the son of the God of this Universe,” I said. “They believe that if they live a good enough life, their family might have the opportunity to one day have their own universe. I met so many nice Mormons on this trip and I desperately wanted to believe them when they said they were Christians. I wondered if the details mattered as long as they had accepted Jesus as their savior. After praying about it, God sent me the verse that made me face the truth. They call on the name Jesus but the Jesus they know isn’t God. They don’t know my Jesus. They also preach a different gospel and the scriptures warn us about that. You might enjoy reading the story on my website called, “Not my Jesus.”
2 Cor 11:2-4
For I am jealous for you with a godly jealousy; for I betrothed you to one husband, so that to Christ I might present you as a pure virgin. But I am afraid that, as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds will be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ. For if one comes and preaches another Jesus whom we have not preached, or you receive a different spirit which you have not received, or a different gospel which you have not accepted, you bear this beautifully. NASU
“No wonder they live such a good life,” the Highway Patrol remarked. “They’re working for something.”
“But we live by grace and worship one true God. You sound sure of your doctrine,” I repeated.
He nodded, relief flooding his face. “You’re right. My problem is with my parents and I need to take charge of my life. I’m going to start by changing churches. There’s a good Methodist church right up the street from me. I think I’ll try that.”
“That sounds like a plan. I have a quick test for picking a good church,” I offered. He leaned forward expectantly, waiting on me to finish. “Start with making sure they believe in the Bible and God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Next, when you visit, see if they welcome you. Finally, use your ears. Listen for laughter and the rustle of pages as they follow along in their Bibles or the books or handouts that contain the scriptures used in the sermons.” He thanked me, and waited until I’d backed Happy out of the parking spot.
I picked up the cell phone. “Bob, I’m going to be late but I’m still coming home.” My tries never vibrated again.
I arrived in Gainesville, Florida at 2:00 AM on Tuesday, September 6, 2005, 3 months after I left home. "Belle, we're in Gainesville. You're going to see Daddy!" This time when she ran to the window, she saw Bob waiting by the curb.
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