The miracle of the Gas…..

I met Jesus Today and He was driving a 30 year old, Beat-up, Yellow, 1 Ton, Pick up Truck!

What impresses me the most about this whole scene is God’s amazing grace towards me.

Well, I am known to lack a certain “worry” gene that has been passed on in my husband’s family apparently for generations.  In fact due to his ability to take care of much of the worrying for both of us, I tend to lean a little to the opposite extreme in some areas.  Such as when to put or not put gasoline in our vehicle. 

My husband is very faithful at putting gas in the car whenever the indicator shows we are down around a quarter of a tank.  I know, theoretically that this is better for the engine, and the driver’s peace of mind, but on the otherhand, it seems like such a waste of time to me.  It involves extra trips to the gas station for which I just don’t have time.  In addition, I have tested the car, I know how many gallons of gas it holds, and how many miles to the gallon it gets (city and highway).  I know that when the gas indicator light comes on we have at least 30 more miles that can safely be traveled before we even get close to running out of gas.  I drive this car regularly and I have tested it numerous times.

Well, we were waiting for pay day to get more gas money, and the low gas indicator light came on 2 days before pay day was due.  I knew we had at least 30 more miles and made a mental note of the car’s mileage.  I also tried to limit my trips as much as possible.  My husband said, “GET SOME GAS.”  Pay day morning, he called from work to say his check was there, please come get it right away and “GET SOME GAS!”  I dropped the 4 year old off at preschool, picked up the check and deposited it in the bank.  Then I went home to do some housework, intending to get the gas after picking up the 4 year old at 11:00 a.m.. 

By this time I was definitely over my 30 miles, but I was *pretty* confident that we could get to her pre-school, pick her up and go straight to the gas station without any trouble.  My 10 and 13 year olds having heard dad’s concern about the gas situation were very nervous.  “Just get gas first mom, please.  It’s okay if you’re late to get the baby.  It’s better than not getting there because you run out of gas!”  “MOM, can we please stop and get a gallon or two of gas, just to make sure!”

I assured the kids that we were fine and headed the 4 miles from our home to the preschool.  There were no gas stations exactly on the way anyway.

I was only 1 mile away from the school and stopped at a stop sign waiting to turn right onto a busy street.  Finally, there was a clearing and so I pulled into the right lane –well, I tried to pull into the right lane.  As I turned the corner, the car stalled  out.  Not wanting to admit my error, I tried several times to restart the car to no avail.  I had to admit --I was out of gas.  My 13 year old son hopped out to push, giving me a very frustrated, “mom” look as he did.   I opened my door to try to push and steer us back around the corner onto the less busy street and out of the way of traffic.  Several gentlemen immediately pulled over and helped my young son quickly push us back around the corner and up onto the lawn of the utility company that sits on that corner. 

Feeling frustrated with my mistake and a little embarrassed I sat quietly for one moment, deciding my course of action.  First on the agenda, Call the 4 year old’s school to inform them I would be late.  –No answer there, they must be outside on the playground still.  I did not leave a message.  Second on the agenda, Call the insurance company’s vehicle rescue division, to ask for a tow to deliver a gallon of gas.  I was desperately hoping this service was in fact covered by the insurance. 

I sat patiently on hold for about a minute when I noticed a very beat up yellow pick up truck pulling up right behind me.  Inside the truck was a weathered man old enough to be my dad.  He had long grey hair like my dad too!  I hung up on the insurance company and got out to tell him what the situation was.  As he hopped out of his truck, the first words out of his mouth were, “You out of gas?”  I don’t know about you, but if I see a car broken down on the side of the road, the first thing that pops into my head is not that they might be out of gas.  (I rather think this is a somewhat uncommon occurance for most normal people). 

“Yes,” I answered somewhat surprised.  He turned and headed to the back of his truck, telling me over his shoulder that he had gas with him.   He returned promptly with a familiar looking red plastic gas can.  His clothes were tattered, but his smile was genuine as he poured several gallons of gas into my little green Outback.  I gave him a few dollars and thanked him for stopping to help.  He didn’t criticize me for running out of gas, he just smiled and then waited to make sure I got going allright. 

As I drove the last mile to the school I thanked God for His amazing grace to me.  This event could have delayed me terribly, making me late to pick up my daughter.  He could have “disciplined” me for my clear disobedience to reason.  Instead, God in His infinite mercy, smiled, saw my repentant heart, and then stopped and gave me enough gas to get to the school and the gas station.

I pulled into the parking lot of St. Aloysius School at 11:01.  The kids were still playing on the playground and had not even headed back into the school for lunch yet!  As my 4 year old ran to hug my legs, I quickly thought, “Thank you God, please help me to have the wisdom to parent as you do.”

I am looking for feedback on this chapter for my "Miracles" book --if you would care to offer any......