I got to see the mountains the other day. Beautiful, kissing-the-sky mountains, with snow still on top. Not that Nebraska suddenly had a make-over. No, I took a trip out west. To Yellowstone, to be exact. This last weekend, I met my sister and some friends there, and we had a blast. Saw two grizzlies that forded the river and came right up to the road to say hi. I’m just thankful that’s all they decided to say. Then we got to look through some telescopes and see one of God’s most fascinating creatures: wolves. Yeah, we saw wolves. They actually look just like dogs, only it’s amazing to think that they’re wild and free and ferocious and loyal and standing right there. And the best part is we got to see their pups too. At the risk of sounding frivolous, they were SO CUTE!
So, that was our adventure. At least, I thought that was all the adventure.
Then Kristi got in her car, and I got in my car, and we started our 15-hour trek back to good, old Nebraska. Got to the southeast corner of Wyoming and ducked under this enormous pile-up of storm clouds. Then it poured, and we witnessed a dazzling rainbow that decided at the last moment to arc across the entire sky and remind me of God’s beautiful promise: “I will remember you.”
I smiled and drove on, wondering what God had in mind. I was about to find out. The clock was creeping slowly past midnight when Kristi’s car died. Just died. One second it was running; the next it wasn’t. So, we pulled over, stuck our heads under the hood, and said, “Oh, so that’s what a car engine looks like!...Hm. Wonder if there’s anything wrong with it.” After that rather unprofessional analysis, Kristi mentioned that the gas gauge was low. Maybe it was actually empty, not just low. So, we drove to the nearest gas station and picked us up a couple gallons of gasoline. And what’d ya know? It was out of gas. We filled her up and were back on our way.
Or so we thought.
Half an hour later, we spotted flashing emergency lights from two vehicles stopped on the side of the road. As Kristi pulled into the left lane to pass them, she hit a semi’s bumper that had disconnected itself in an attempt to live on the wild side of life. In the fast lane, you might say. Well, all I saw were the sparks flying out the back of her car - and, as soon as we both pulled over, the gasoline spewing out of a badly ruptured gas line. Sparks and gasoline don’t mix well; their personalities are too explosive. We probably should have died that night. Except that God said, “I will remember you.”
We had just passed a towing company not a mile down the road. Because we had an extra car, we were able to drive over and ask for help. It was now past 1:00 in the morning. The mechanic on duty, a guy named David, didn’t have anything else going on and said he’d give it a look. So, he hitched up Kristi’s car to his truck, drove us back to the shop, and started tinkering around with a ripped-up gas line. And he fixed it. MacGyver style. (I looked up how to spell that, by the way.) Should have cost us a few hundred dollars, but when we asked what we owed him, he only said, “However much you think you should pay me.”
Wow.
We were back on the road by 3:30. Both grateful to be alive and again utterly astounded by the God who says, “I will remember you.”
And that was my adventure.
