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It Takes Pockets to Have Full Pockets
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It Takes Pockets to Have Full Pockets
Learn
Proverbs 3:5-6
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. NIV
Having full pockets is a metaphor for being prepared. One lesson that I seem to need to learn repeatedly is that having full pockets begins with having a pocket. Pockets are essential for camping trips. On a previous journey, I lost my credit card because I was wearing shorts without a pocket. I’ve written a story about this and when I speak for groups, one of my travel tips is to make sure you have pockets. Yet, while I was out shopping just before the 2007 journey, I found a pair of black shorts that met all the requirements except one – it didn’t have pockets. I bought the shorts anyway.
The first sign of impending disaster was the beeping. Beeping in a camper is never good. In this case, it meant my camper battery was low. That’s impossible, I thought. I’m plugged in. It’s supposed to be charging.
I checked the indicator light and sure enough, the battery was low. Knowing the car engine would also charge the camper battery, I turned it on and grabbed my cell phone to call Bob. When I put the ear bud on, I heard more beeping. I had no cell coverage.
I opened my purse, got my phone card, and walked over to the pay phone. I took the cell phone because I didn’t have Bob’s cell phone number memorized. Since I had no pockets, I juggled the pay phone, cell phone, and phone card as I dialed.
I punched in my calling card number and listened to the phone say, “You are being charged 37 minutes for using a pay phone. You have 105 minutes left.” I’d used 37 minutes and hadn’t even reached Bob yet.
Bob’s phone went to voice mail and I babbled my message in fast run on sentences. “Bob, I have a mechanical problem. My camper battery is low, which should be impossible since it has been plugged in for 2 days, and yet it is indeed low. I’m running the car engine to charge it but suspect it will just run down again when I turn the car off. I’m hoping you have some suggestions but since I don’t have cell coverage, I don’t even know why I’m leaving this voice mail since you can’t call me back. You always answer your phone on the weekends. Where are you???”
I hung up and stood there. It occurred to me that if Bob was on the phone and I called back a second time, he would take the call. I spent another 37 minutes of phone card time to listen to Bob’s uninteresting voice mail. “Bob, I’ve called you twice and have used 74 minutes of my card. I’ll run out of minutes if I keep calling you so I hope you listen to these voice mails. I’ll call later.”
I walked back to the camper, turned the engine off, and noticed I had 3 out of 4 dots on the battery indicator light. I figured denial was healthy so I pretended I didn’t have a problem and started writing again. It wasn’t long before I heard the dreaded beeping.
I hate beeps, I told God. I turned on the car engine again and walked back to the pay phone. This time, Bob answered the phone on the first ring.
“Thank God,” he said. “I thought you’d never call back. I was listening to your voice mail when you called the second time. I wanted to scream when I heard the second voice mail. And then you didn’t call again. I tried to call the pay phone but it won’t take incoming calls.”
“Any suggestions for what I can try?” I asked.
“Two things,” he said. “First, make sure a circuit breaker isn’t tripped. Second, check the connections on the camper battery.”
“Is that all,” I said dryly. “I've already checked the circuit breakers. How do I check the connections?”
He was patient. “Look behind the back passenger side tire. You’ll see a wing nut. Take it off and pull off the cover. The camper battery will be in a drawer. Pull it out and check the connections. You’ll see 3 wires.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Will I get shocked?” I asked. “You do realize it is dark here – and raining.”
“Just don’t touch anything else while you’re touching the battery,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
Not at all sure I’d be fine, I sighed, said goodbye and walked back to Halleluiah. I said hello to Belle, turned off the engine, and since I didn’t have pockets, I put my keys, cell phone, and phone card on the middle seat. I went in search of something called a wing nut and was proud of myself when I found it. I tried to turn it and realized I’d need pliers so I went back inside the camper. I finally removed the wing nut but couldn’t get the panel off. I pulled, pushed, and prayed. Nothing helped. Sighing again, I walked back to the door to get my phone card to ask Bob for direction.
When I tried the car door, it was locked. That’s impossible, I thought for the second time that night. I tried the other doors and they were all locked. I was just in the car, I thought. It can’t be locked. I tried the door again.
Poor Belle was going crazy. She was on the middle seat clawing at the window, trying to get to me. She didn’t understand why I wouldn’t come in. Then I realized what had happened. Belle, my precious sweet puppy who loves me unconditionally had jumped on the seat and hit the automatic door lock on my key ring. My dog had locked me out.
It was 10:00 at night. The campground was dark and most people were in for the night. For a moment, I teetered between panic and laughter. Oh well, I thought. Laughter is more fun. I took a breath and chased the rising panic away. The words of one of one of my Christian CD’s came to me. “If it’s going to get done, you’re going to have to do it."
God, I prayed. I don’t know what to do so I need you to get me out of this.
My first thought after the prayer was to get Belle to open the door. I’m not sure that thought came from God. I tapped on the window and did my best to drive Belle crazy. She jumped up and down and danced on the keys but the door never opened. I suddenly remembered a scene from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World. Prisoners tried to coax a dog into giving them the prison keys while the dog just sat there, holding the keys, and smiling smugly. Belle was about as cooperative as the stubborn Disney dog.
My next thought was to call AAA. I didn’t know their number or my account number and since my card was in my purse in the locked car, I decided to call Bob and ask him to call AAA. I walked back to the pay phone only to realize I had no money and no idea what Bob’s cell number was. On the off chance he’d gotten home, I called our house collect. He wasn’t home. “I’m sorry,” the recording said. “The charges have been refused.” I hung up and sagged against the wall. Now what God? I prayed.
About that time, a woman, who I later learned was Nicole, walked out of the woman’s rest room. I whispered, “My dog locked me out of my car and I don’t know what to do.”
She was speechless. “I’m locked out,” I said. “My keys were on the seat and my dog jumped on the seat and locked my doors. I’m alone and I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re locked out?” she gasped.
“Yes, and I don’t know what to do.” I didn’t know it was possible to be so tickled and feel so helpless at the same time. I was picturing myself sleeping in my camp chair in the rain.
“I’ll go call security for you,” she suggested. “What site are you at?”
“Number 4,” I said.
I walked back to my camper and went to the window to try to calm Belle. That was when I noticed the window was open. I’d opened it earlier when I was cooking. I tried to get my arm in the 3-inch opening but it wouldn’t fit. I’m going on a diet, I thought.
I looked at the keys sitting less than 2 feet from my arm and had another idea. Maybe I could pick them up with a coat hanger. I went to the camper next door and asked for a coat hanger.
“My dog locked me out,” I said. “I need a coat hanger to try to get back in.”
“Your dog? The woman asked incredulously. I told her the story.
“I’m a Christian writer and this is going to make a great story,” I laughed.
She went inside in search of a coat hanger. I heard her say, “This woman says her dog locked her out.” She brought a coat hanger back, handed it to me, and quickly jumped inside her golf cart and drove off. I think I made her nervous.
I untwisted the metal coat hanger, made a hook, and put it through the window. Just as I touched the keys, the bend in the coat hanger snapped in two and the bottom half of the coat hanger dropped inside the camper. The remaining piece of coat hanger wasn’t long enough to reach the keys.
While I leaned against the car laughing uncontrollably, Nicole drove up. “Security is on its way,” she said. We introduced ourselves and I caught her up on the last 15 minutes.
“You’re handling this really well,” she said. “That speaks a lot for the power of your faith.”
I laughed. “There was a moment where I almost gave in to panic but I decided to trust God and give in to the humor instead. How many people have been locked out of their cars by their dogs?”
Suddenly my lonely campsite was full of people wanting to help. Two security men drove up in a golf cart just as Nicole’s father also walked up. (See a picture of my Knights in Shinning Armor under Indiana – Santa Claus – Knights in Shinning Armor) All three men studied the situation. The security men first tried their keys on my van to see if something would open the door. When that didn’t work, they played with my broken coat hanger.
“I think we have a tool in the shed,” one of them said. They left in search of their tool and Nicole’s dad left in search of another coat hanger.
Nicole’s dad arrived back first, coat hanger in hand. He bent it and dropped it through the window. He hooked the keys and as he slowly lifted them to the window, they went kerplunk somewhere on the floor, out of our line of sight. We all stood there stunned.
“Oh no,” he said. “I made it worse. I feel terrible.”
“Don’t you dare feel terrible,” I said. “You were trying to help. Besides, you just made my story funnier.” He didn’t look convinced.
Headlights blinded us as the golf cart pulled back up. “We found it,” they said excitedly as they jumped out of the car. “This is the perfect tool.” It looked like our coat hanger tool but was sturdy. “It was hard to find in the dark but we finally found it.”
“Ohhhh,” I said, trying to decide how to break the news to them that we’d dropped the keys. “We kind of dropped the keys on the floor.”
“What?” one of them said. “Who dropped them?”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to rat Nicole’s sweet dad out. He spoke up and said, “I did. I feel terrible.” The security men groaned. Nicole’s dad quietly walked back to his campsite as the security men tried to reach the keys on the floor. We couldn’t see the keys and their magic tool wouldn’t reach to the floor.
In a couple of minutes, Nicole’s dad walked up again carrying a rope and a strong magnet. This man was prepared. I noticed that his pants even had pockets.
“A magnet,” I said. What a good idea!” Together, the three men began the process of attaching the magic tool, the rope, and magnet together. When they finally had it ready, Nicole’s dad took it to the window.
“How are you going to know where to drop it?” I asked.
Nicole answered, “If you move the picnic table to the camper and stand on it, you might can see the keys.”
The men ignored her but I liked the idea. When the men didn’t pick up on her idea, Nicole and I picked the picnic table and moved it over to the camper.
Nicole’s dad gingerly stepped up on the table. “I can see them,” he said in amazement. “They’re right there.”
He reached for the window and Belle began having a fit. She didn’t like the strange man standing on a picnic table putting an even stranger contraption through her window. She barked and Nicole’s dad jerked his hand back.
“She won’t bite,” I said. Again, he didn’t look convinced.
“Belle!” I commanded. “Get on the floor. Get down.”
She looked at me like I had lost my mind, stayed on the seat, and kept barking!
“GET DOWN! I demanded. Belle knew better than to argue with that voice and reluctantly got down.
Slowly he lowered the magnet. It went lower and lower. When he silently began lifting it, I couldn’t watch. Instead, I turned and prayed.
God, I said. I know you’re going to eventually let me back inside Halleluiah but it would be a personal favor to me if you could allow Nicole’s dad to be the one to solve this problem. He feels terrible for dropping those keys.”
Just as I prayed, I heard Nicole shout, “I’ve got them.” When her dad got them to the top of the window, she reached inside and grabbed the keys. We all cheered and Nicole and I threw our arms around each other. I opened the car and hugged a traumatized Belle. Belle let everyone pet her.
The first moral of this story is to be prepared. When camping, part of being prepared is to have pockets. Having a giant magnet isn’t such a bad idea either and one will be on my Christmas list.
There is a second moral to the story. I had a moment when I knew my choices were between trusting God and panicking. Either way, I’d have eventually gotten into my camper. By choosing to trust God, He allowed me the joy of demonstrating faith to 4 people. In that demonstration, my faith increased.
The next morning, the church I visited broke into small groups, each with the assignment of sharing somewhere we’d seen God working in the last week. People had difficulty sharing a recent experience but I didn’t. I shared my story of the dog locking me out. At the end of the sharing time, the pastor asked if anyone had heard a story worth telling to the entire congregation. A woman in my group raised her hand and told the pastor that he had to give me the microphone. God allowed me the opportunity to tell the story to a church full of people. Many people came up afterward and told me the story had helped them.
One last thought – I really shouldn’t have bought the shorts without the pockets. I knew better and did it anyway. My only excuse was that they were cute and made me look thinner than any other shorts I tried on. The amazing thing was that God used my bad judgment to get His work done, while still managing to teach me a lesson.
PS - as of this moment, the battery still isn't fixed. I sacrificed and am staying in a hotel that has a hot tub.
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