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Come - Disconnected
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Disconnected
Come
Eph 3:20
God can do anything, you know — far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us. The Message
Has life or responsibility ever worn you out? Were you so tired that you were about to collapse? Perhaps you had been working faithfully for God and felt you deserved better. Were you looking forward to a long rest, only to find that you had something else to handle. Were you ready to cry, “Enough is enough?” The Bible translation The Message, says, “Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.” (Matthew 11:28) When we are spiritually disconnected, the only answer is to come to Jesus.
I promised my mentor that I would not let myself get so exhausted. She made me commit to taking one full day of rest a week. Since a day of rest is Biblical, I agreed. Unfortunately, I have trouble keeping that commitment. There are needs everywhere. I pass people continually and wonder if I should stop. I feel a responsibility to my web readers and there is always more to write about than time to write. My website is a collection of pictures of America and there are always other pictures that could be taken. Each picture takes time to put on the web. Letting housekeeping and maintenance issues slide while living in a camper is an invitation to disaster. Speaking commitments take preparation time. Friends and family members miss me and want to talk. I mean to take time to rest and each night as I fall into bed later than the night before, I plan that tomorrow will be the day.
I was determined to take a day off in Nebraska. It was going to be Saturday. I had it all planned. I drove hard so I could arrive on Friday night. I was going to connect Halleluiah and not disconnect until Sunday morning for church. I was going to sleep late, soak in the hot tub, swim in the pool, sun bathe, and read a novel. I felt like I had earned it and as I drove down the highway, I became more and more enthusiastic.
My first warning of trouble was when Mrs. Sojourner (see story – The Sojourners) called and asked, “Are you OK? Ron and I both felt led to pray for you. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “But please pray for me. I’m a little homesick and very tired.”
When I hung up the phone, I passed the Nebraska state line. Suddenly, a car pulled up beside me honking wildly and pointed to behind Halleluiah. I looked back and saw something black tangled up in the wheel and dragging behind the car. My first thought was that my bumper had come off. It was a silly thought because my bumper wasn’t black. I immediately pulled over.
As I got out of my car on the busy Interstate-80, a semi whizzed past me, so close it felt like I could touch it. I know three people who had family members killed doing car maintenance on a busy highway. I got back in Halleluiah and pulled a little further off the road. I had to stay on the emergency lane because the ground beside the lane wasn’t level. Halleluiah is wider than a regular car so I was still too close to the highway for my comfort. As cars changed lanes to get further from me, I worried I was going to cause an accident. I pictured my tiny grandbaby about to be born and longed to be here for that.
I looked at the tire and saw a black cord on top wrapped once around. The cord looked like part of the tire so my first thought was the tire had shredded. Then I realized it was dragging 15 feet behind the camper. Finally, it dawned on me what the problem was. My electrical cord had snaked out of a tiny hole that connects it from one compartment to the next, had dropped through the bottom of the second compartment, and had been drug behind the camper. Torn to shreds, the inside of the cord reminded me of horsehair. Flattened and bent, the plug would never again connect Halleluiah to a power source.
As cars and trucks continued to rush past me, I managed to untangle the cord from the back right tire. The only way to pull the still attached cord back into the compartment was to open both side compartments of Halleluiah and pull it back through the tiny hole, inch by inch. That meant I had to take a step closer to the highway, kneel down, and use my key to unlock the side compartments. It seemed like it took forever. Two semi’s came barreling down the road, side by side, and I lost my confidence they could both see and avoid me so I abandoned the project and rushed off the road. When the semi’s passed, I knelt beside the road and began pulling the cord back in. Once the cord was inside, it took several attempts to lock the compartments with trembling hands.
Back safe in Halleluiah, I breathed a sigh of relief until I realized the ramifications of the cord fiasco. Without some kind of intervention, I would not be connecting Halleluiah tonight. To make matters worse, I thought back to my morning and remembered thinking that the tiny latch on the tiny door to the cord wasn’t completely locked. The cord felt tight so I didn’t think it mattered. It most certainly did matter. I hated feeling so inept. I knew this was my mistake.
All of the mechanical problems of the past few weeks piled up in my brain. 3 flat tires and 2 busted rims on the Mazda flashed before my eyes. The car pulling up beside me honking reminded me that just 2 weeks before, the same thing had happened when my spare tire fell backward due to a missing bolt and pin. There was no stopping the rushing freight train of emotions as the vandals in New Jersey once again robbed me of something. I thought of the missing screws on my back bumper and my on going problems with my generator. I pictured the broken stove cover, the permanent ink marks on the front seat, and the bent hinge on the storage compartment (which was why it was so hard to lock earlier.) Obviously, I wasn’t fit to be doing what I was doing.
God, I explained. I can’t do this. I thought I could but I can’t. I’m going home right after the radio show on Wednesday. I’m selling Halleluiah and will find something else to do with my time. God remained silent and waited for me to finish processing.
I started to wonder what I’d do with my time when I got home. I thought about getting a real job. I didn’t want to work in Phoenix because I’d not be able to visit my family whenever I felt like it. I didn’t want to work in Jacksonville because I’d miss my husband.
I know, I thought. I’ll volunteer in something like a Garden Club. That would be low pressure. Maybe they’ll even elect me as President one day.
My daddy is in a Garden Club so I wondered if they let women in. I also wondered what they actually did at the garden club and realized that you probably had to grow things. My lack of success growing things is fodder for a future story.
I called Bob. “I don’t think they will let me in the Garden Club.”
“What?” he said.
“I need something to do after I sell Halleluiah and I’m pretty sure you have to know something about plants to be in the Garden Club. Do they let women join?”
I went on to explain to Bob what happened. “Cheryle,” he said. “What you’re describing is impossible. Are you sure you locked the compartments? I don’t see how that cord got out.”
It was confession time. “I locked the compartments,” I said quietly, “But there is a little latch between the 2 compartments that wouldn’t latch. The cord must have vibrated through the first compartment into the second one and fallen onto the road. The second compartment is open on the bottom. I checked the plug and it fit so tightly that I didn’t think it would matter.”
“Cheryle, if you’d told me that door wouldn’t latch, I could have told you how to keep this from happening.” Leave it to men to state the obvious.
“Well,” I said. “You’d have been right. You’ve just proven my point. I’m not fit to do this. I’m just not sure about the Garden Club thing. I really tried to learn to grow things and it never worked.”
Completely missing how distraught I was, Bob went into problem solving mode. “Stop at a camper store and buy a 30 amp plug. Find someone in the campground to cut the cord and splice the plug on.”
Having decided to go home, I was actually feeling a little giddy. I called the campground and asked if any of the camp workers could help me. After asking around, they called back and said a camp worker would look at it and try to help. This man already had a 30-amp plug.
When I arrived at the campground, they called for Rex. Wearing the bright yellow KOA shirt, a grinning Rex walked up and said, “I hear you have a problem. Open the compartments and let’s have a look.”
“You’d be my hero if you can help,” I gushed. He just laughed.
When he saw the poor cord he said, “You really messed that up.” There went another man stating the obvious. “I don’t know why it didn’t wrap around your axel and cause you a serious problem.”
“I think it is because people were praying for me.” I told him the story of the Sojourners feeling led to pray for me and the car warning me right afterward.
“It was just starting to get tangled in the tire when I pulled over.” I told him a little about Pocket Full of Quarters and the ministry.
“I need to go get tools,” Rex said.
As he left, another man walked up. “Do you need help?”
“I think Rex is helping me but thanks. I didn’t close a tiny door and I killed my cord.”
He looked at me kindly, patted my shoulder, and said, “You know you’re not the first person to do that. I see people every day who have driven off and left their cord attached to the plug. We replace a lot of plugs around here.” I felt a little better.
Rex came back and as he worked, sweat dripped off his face and onto the cord. “I’m trying to read the entire Bible through,” he said. “I didn’t realize how cruel God was. He did some pretty bad stuff. He killed children.”
“I know,” I said. “God’s perspective is different than ours. We think death is the worse thing that can happen but from God’s perspective, time on earth is short. He’s planning for eternity. It’s hard to understand. Are you a Christian?”
“I am,” he said. “That decision was made a long time ago. I go to church every Sunday. I feel guilty when I miss. But I’m having trouble with God. Jesus is my savior. He’s kind and offers grace to everyone. I’m starting to think that God and Jesus might just not be the same after all. I talked to my pastor about it.”
“Did he help?” I asked.
“Not really,” he said.
“I don’t understand God’s ways but I trust them,” I said. “By dying young, those children were innocent and went to heaven. The Bible says the children that never live are better off than those of us who have to live on this difficult earth. Maybe if those children had lived and been raised by evil nations, they would have spent an eternity in hell. Who knows the truth but I do know that I trust God. I believe in the Trinity. God the Father is my creator and my Daddy. My earthly Daddy sometimes had to punish me and at the time it seemed cruel. Jesus is my teacher and role model. The Holy Spirit is God with me at all times. The Holy Spirit explains the scriptures to me. For me, it is three different faces of the same God. Even saying that though, I still know that God is bigger than anything we can possibly understand.”
When he finished, I asked if I could pay him. “That plug cost me around $10. Anything people pay me outside my job, I donate to the local children’s home. Donate what ever you like.” I gave him $30 and thanked him profusely.
I called Bob and told him that I could indeed connect for the night. “The cord is only 4 feet long so I’m still going to have to get some kind of extension.” Bob had already found an RV service company nearby and as much as I wanted to stay connected all day on Saturday, I knew I was going to disconnect and go into town.
Saturday became a busy day. I bought a 25-foot extension cord from Cory, who was a Christian struggling with the function and usefulness of the church. We had a long talk. I washed, dried, and folded 4 loads of clothes, talked with several people, and put files of pictures on the web. I answered my e-mail and put a story out. I never even saw the pool or hot tub. I finally collapsed into bed, tired once again, and still discouraged.
Before I went to sleep, I told Bob about Mrs. Sojourner calling me. “Cheryle,” he said. “The next time they feel led to pray for you, stop the car and look behind it.”
The next morning I worshipped in Gretna Baptist Church in Gretna, Nebraska. As I sat down in the Bible Study and began listening to the teacher, I felt my spirit coming to Jesus. The lesson text was Ephesians 3.
As I read the words, “God can do anything,” I realized that He was going to give me the strength to do what ever He called me to. Like the translation, The Message says, “God can do even more than I can imagine.” God wasn’t going to bully me into following Him. He was going to continue to gently invite me to come to Him and find rest.
As I continued to worship in that tiny sweet church, I felt God’s gentle spirit move deeply and gently in me. I was connected once again. I wasn’t going home and wasn’t going to sell Halleluiah. I left feeling rested.
At the first rest stop, I tried to turn on the generator. It would not start. No matter, I thought. I’m ready for this. The problem would have to be resolved on Monday. The Garden Clubs of the world are safe from the plant murdering Pocket Full of Quarters’ Lady.
(To see pictures of the poor cord, Rex, and Cory, go to the Photogallery and look in Nebraska - Gretna - KOA)
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