It is 10:30 at night. Somewhere in Arizona. The truckstop directory said "Casa Grande", but the shop employee insists I am in Eloy, Arizona.
From time to time the Lord sees fit to stop me or delay me. This was one of those days, and He saw fit to stop me at the Petro Truckstop in Casa Grande (Eloy?).
I had only driven a hundred miles this morning, and was prepared to bypass Phoenix, when I heard a noise, checked my mirrors, and saw bits of tire on the shoulder where none had been before. A blowout? I couldn't see anything in my mirrors but knew that only a fool would proceed further without checking out the situation. I could see a Petro truckstop ahead! Would I make it? One mile ... and then down the exit ramp ... a quick right turn and into the Petro ... a large dirt area across from the shop perfect for stopping and checking tires ... circle into the dirt area and then ...
BOOOOMMMM! A noise that could be heard for half a mile. Heads turned and looked in the shop. It was one of my super singles. It had lost its tread on the freeway and as I circled into the dirt parking area it blew. How I made it a mile down the freeway without tread is unknown to me.
Well, this was no big thing. An hour or two delay while the employer decided where to get a replacement tire. Was God good to me or what? Last night I wanted to write about grace - the unmerited favor of God, but was too tired from the bad cold I was nursing. Now I was seeing still more of His abundant grace in action. What is so "gracious" about a blown tire? Grace is when you are just about to turn off Interstate 10 and head into very barren, very desolate country and the tire blows right in front of the truck stop. Grace is when you deserve to have the ground open up and swallow you but instead you come to a safe stop and your tire does not blow until you are safely off the road while you are carrying 45,000 pounds of flammable liquid.
But the story gets better. While waiting for the tire repair, I discovered a broken leaf spring on the trailer. This is a definite travel stopper. It is more of a travel stopper when there is no replacement spring anywhere in the state of Arizona which will fit this fourteen year old trailer, so now I sit in Eloy (Casa Grande?).
But why here?
I have learned that when God stops me (and his methods are peculiar), it is time to stop, look about, and see why He has stopped me here. I talk with the mechanics. I talk with the bedbuggers parked next to me (I am a tanker yanker - bedbuggers are van line drivers and movers). So far nothing . .. but wait ... there is a little chapel here at THIS Petro (truck stop chapels are becoming rare) and this chapel is occupied (on a MONDAY ?!?) and chaplain Larry is planning to have a service this evening! How good is this! I rarely get to attend services on the road.
Service tonight consisted of me and Chaplain Larry. I needed the church tonight. And I think that Chaplain Larry needed a truck driver to come in and pray with him and encourage him. Truck stop ministries are lonely these days.
Now, God has not yet permitted me to leave, and the part may or may not come in tomorrow (my masters are sending the part from Indiana), so we will see what other appointments, if any, God has for me. He never tells me in advance. It is always a surprise.
