Chapter Three

I had to post another chapter right away as the previous chapter had too many sad stories. So here is a partial for chapter three and another story of His faithfulness to us.

Three

Montana Hospitality - 72 days on the road

In all the years that we have been in the bus I have often thought about the genius of God giving us the desire to restore a VW bus, and then to have Him within forty-eight hours later,  show us one for sale online.

He placed us in a bus because a VW bus is the only vehicle on the road that instantly breaks down barriers between people no matter their station in this life. From bikers to lawyers, housewives to hardened US Marines, a VW bus is a people magnet. It draws you in because you want to share your story of how your parents took you camping in one when you were a kid or how you met your wife while stationed in Germany and conceived your son in a VW bus on your honeymoon. A VW bus draws people in with a smile and warms people’s hearts to thoughts of freedom and love as it symbolizes a period in history when these were cultural themes among a new generation searching for truth.

It was one of these kind strangers drawn to the shine of our olive green and white house, as we pulled into Plentywood, Montana, barely escaping the impending thunderstorms of southern Saskatche-wan.  Have you ever felt the energy in the air when a massive storm system in moving in? The sky darkens ominously and the atmosphere is charged with negative ions, the air is warm and thick with stillness. You have an eerie sense that something more than a regular storm is coming. That feeling of anticipation, like watching a scary movie as the hero character is walking backwards down a spooky hallway, and all you want to do is scream, ‘turn around’, because you just know the bad guy will be there.

That was Saskatchewan on that day. We knew we had to drive south and escape the weather as well as the biblical plague of mosquitoes that had descended on the prairies in the summer of 2011.

We had just made it into sunshine as we crossed the border into the welcoming country of our southern cousins. The first town we came to was a welcome sight, quite honestly because the fuel was so much cheaper. As we pulled into one of the four streets that divided this hamlet in the northern Montana territory we found a gas station and stopped. I had no sooner hopped out to fill our Olive (the name of our bus), when a man walked up to make conversation, drawn to us by the pretty bus.

He was a fine looking man, whose skin had seen a lifetime of sunshine and creased as his broad smile opened his happy face. His bright eyes said that he was sharp and alert and his welcoming manner was as disarming as a warm apple pie.

We quickly fall into conversation about our house with wheels and he shares of his fondness for Volkswagens. Before I have squeezed the nozzle on the pumps I noticed that regular fuel was the only offering at this station so I place the hose back and tighten my cap.

“What seems to be the problem?” The stranger inquires.

“Well, I only put premium in the tank.” I stated flatly.

“Oh, well follow me.” He walks off to his vehicle and leads us out of the station, down the street, hang a left and pull into what appears to be an abandoned filling station.

As I pull up I can see him punching some keys on the solitary pump. I hop out of Olive to hear him say, “It’s al set for you, just start pumping.”

We pick up our conversation from before and as I finish the filling, place the nozzle back and again, tighten my cap, I look around to try and determine where the young lad is I am suppose to pay. The only tiny hut on the lot appears to be closed.

“Where to I pay for the gas?” As I reach for my wallet.

“Put that away,” he says, “this is Montana hospitality.

A free tank of gas!

Thank you Jesus. Yes we thanked our kind stranger too and took a picture with our new friend from the land where a river runs through it. James was a flax farmer from Montana with a big heart and a fondness for German engineering.  We couldn’t leave without his invitation to visit anytime again and look him up on his farm.

So it was that we were just starting to understand that God was going to shower us with favor and open doors of ministry, as Tracey calls it, “a moment in your life.”  It seemed like time and again we would have a moment in the life of someone who connected with us over our Olive.

God is speaking all the time to us, all of us. Life can get so busy that we forget to listen or sometimes have gone so long without hearing that we have forgotten how. For me, as I recall the peaks and valleys of my life I remember the wonderful evenings I would spend with my walkman… (that was portable cassette player, once upon a time)… now I think I need to explain what a cassette was, but I’ll just leave that for you to Google if your too young to know. Anyhow, where was I… ah yes, I would walk into the dark night as the dew was beginning to fall. Escaping to catch some moments in isolated praise on the quiet grasses of a nearby golf course. I would walk onto the course and find a large boulder in the middle of the fairway on the ninth hole. I am sure it was a vexation for the golfers but for me it was an island paradise as the sprinklers danced around me. I was alone in praise and worship being moved to tears below the blanket of stars. At the time I was only thinking of the peace and joy I felt in the act of worshiping my King, my Savoir, my Friend. I was not thinking about what I would discover years and years later. That acts of worship like this were actually sowing into the fields of my future. Not only was God being blessed by sacrifices of praise; He was keeping it on account so to speak. I believe that the grace and favor of God was powerfully at work in my life as the fruit of the seeds sown in these times of praise came to bloom in my dark valley periods. It was during these hard years that I believe I would have completely destroyed myself if it were not for His love manifested towards me. 

Chapter Two

Continuing our odyssey, I have to give you a wee bit of the story for your reference. We are not perfect. Those that are can stop reading my blog posts. Anyone left? Anyone out there? OK... going by faith --- someone is still reading this. Although I briefly outline our back story in this short chapter, I will come back to various issues throughout the book to show you how God is in the business of redeeming and restoring. I felt like I was a major project for Him, and you may feel the same way, but don't. He is pretty good at what He does.

Two

From Fear to Faith – the pre-story

How is it that two middle-aged professionals find themselves living like gypsies in a world consumed with avarice?

Would it surprise you that it was not entirely by choice? Sometimes you feel compelled to do something. Sometimes you feel God on it and sometimes you have both the compulsion and the confirmed Word of God.

Without getting into the horrid details of the events, I will summarize for you, although it will sound like a bad country western song by the time I am done.

I was at a low point in my life and despite a good up bringing in a good Christian home, I found myself stepping down from my position of lay-leadership and pastoral duties in our church because I could not shake the feeling of being hypocritical.

How, you ask?

My marriage of eighteen years was falling apart, and within the strict Pentecost of my roots, once divorced your ministry was over.

I recall a talented young singer who used to sing in front of the church. Her angelic voice would raise your spirit and you couldn’t help but have that tear well up in the corner of your eye as she sang. After her divorce however, ministry at the front of the church was off limits.

So, I was conflicted, depressed and suffering from a severe identity crisis, I left off speaking at our Full Gospel church.

Sadly around the same time, my mentor, pastor and friend, David T. was diagnosed with cancer and quickly passed. The shock to our small congregation and his family was intense.

I also ran into financial difficulties and had to claim bankruptcy to survive, merging my client list with that of another firm in town.

Our church did not transition well through the period of seeking another pastor and as a result ended up splitting. With the warning letter I had written to the board about the signs of stormy weather among the leadership, my membership was illegally revoked along with another board member brave enough to speak out against the interim leadership. Leaving out details for brevity’s sake.

So there you have the first part of my sad pages in this book. Bankruptcy, the loss of a close friend, excommunicated, and going through a divorce, things could have been better.

This was the darkest time of my life and the farthest I felt from God.

And yet, the choices I was making and continued to make were not improving my situation. I had a lot to learn; about myself, my heart, my habits and my intimacy with God and others. I was on a journey.

Tracey likewise was on a journey, one that brought her through a childhood of abuse and lack of intimacy with people and certainly with God. She jokingly states that she grew up as a ‘non-committal atheist’ as she had a stepfather who did not believe in God but blamed Him for everything.

The childhood abuse left its scars and as many do she sought acceptance and love through physical intimacy and was disconnected from her heart. After several marriages ended she called out to God in desperation on evening, asking for God to provide a man for her as she was not picking them too well. Within a week we had met.

Now I have really abbreviated our sad stories, because this book is not about our pains of the past. If I took the time to write about these stories in detail to fill in the blanks for you it would take a few more chapters and frankly I think I may loose some of you.

We all have these sad stories, but the unifying truth is the Jesus is the one who takes our sad stories and masterfully does the rewrite we all so badly need.  That’s what this book is about. Our rewrite, from the valley we were in and out the other side. There is no point in reviewing how we got into the valley, suffice to say we were in one. Can you relate? Have choices you have made in life landed you in some dark valley, leaving you feeling isolated and scared? As you read and as I recall our story, you too may discovery what we did – that He as always there with us, even when we did not feel that He was.

My goodness He is gracious and loving. So caring over the details of our lives. Let me illustrate with another story.

The beginnings of our book

As promised to so many, we are finally taking the time to review our life in the bus, our blogs posts and stories to flesh out some more of the details and back story to how we came to live the life we do.

I will post the chapters here as I write them for your enjoyment and comments. I will write the story, not in chronological order, but in the best style that suits me and my writing - so be prepared to bounce a bit along our journey as I reflect from time to time.

Enjoy.

                                                                       One

95 days on the road

I looked over at my wife, (Tracey) admittedly a bit of panic in my eyes, as I yelled over the noise, “Do you know what you gotta do?”

 

“No” she shot back, equaling panicked with just a hint of whimsy in her forced smile.

We were heading for Cape Breton Island, the enchanted land of long-forgotten Gallic and mystical fiddlers. We had stopped along the way because the forty-year-old carburetors on our VW Bus were inching along their last legs and needed some tweaking from, what the locals called,  “the bus whisperer”.

We had followed one of these locals out into the pretty countryside of Canada’s eastern shores. Nova Scotia was one of the friendliest areas we had the privilege of discovering on our odyssey.

We pulled off the highway and up a short dirt driveway, and quickly noticed no room in the inn, for the bus whisperers garage door was open and another VW bus was being tended to. That was always a good sign. If there were other vehicles present odds are the mechanic in residence knew his stuff. It’s like driving up to a restaurant and seeing a parking lot full. Quite likely the bellies inside were full and happy too.

The elderly mechanic took the time out to retune our dual carburetors, carefully inserting his head over the engine and turning his little screwdriver a bit at a time. Ever listening. Totally concentrating.  But our local tour guide (a young man who befriended us in an instant due to our bus he spotted in a parking lot a few days earlier) was a chatty fellow and had an endless barrage of comments, questions and stories to share, a regular machine gun of dialogue, until the screwdriver popped out of the engine compartment to give a loud “Shhh”.

Finishing up the mechanic clipped the lids back on top of our carburetors and smiled. A job well done. He informed us that he was hosting a VW show on Cape Breton Island in the historic town of Iona. We thanked him for his services, and offered to pay, but were sternly refused. We had heard about the show on the island and were going to take part, as a central focus of our trip to Cape Breton.

So it was, as we were driving the isolated highway through northern Nova Scotia, on our way from the bus whisperer that we came upon a truck and horse trailer going particularly slowly. We both were coming up to a hill and I realized that for the first time in the four months that we have been on our road trip, that we could possibly pass someone. Imagine the thrill of being able to pass another vehicle when you’re driving a forty-year-old VW bus. This does not happen every day, I assure you. And so it was, as I pressed down on the accelerator that the pedal fell to the floor. Yes, it fell to the floor of the bus and the engine began running at full throttle. I didn’t know what happened! All I knew is that the gas pedal was stuck on the floor of the bus and the engine was revved wide open as we raced uphill. My mind raced almost as fast as my pulse, as I envisioned the accelerator cable running under our bus to the engine compartment and then to linkages between our two carburetors. Something back there was stuck!

Now as you calmly read this you’ll of course know exactly what to do. But believe me, when your racing up a hill in full acceleration in a vehicle never meant to be in full acceleration you stop thinking clearly.  Your thinking that going uphill is fine, but there is a downside to the other side of this mountain and you need to stop this run away train. Brother, I was panicked. I hollered over the noise of the screaming engine to my wife, “I am going to have to slam the brakes on at the top of this mountain, your going to have to jump out, run to the back of the bus, lift the engine door, reach in there and lift the connecting bar between the carburetors…” (I could see it in my mind that this bar had something to do with it)… “Do you know what you have to do?”

“No” she screamed.

Reaching the top of the hill, I swing the bus off the road and pressing down with all my might I hold the brake pedal to the floor. The engine whining for all she is worth as my wife jets out of her side, running to the back of the bus, lifting the engine lid, just as I recall the simplest thing to do.

Turn the key.

I reach up and turned off the motor. We went from full RPM to a dead stop in a milli-second. The two massive backfires were like shotgun blasts in this serene countryside. My wife jumped back ten feet, the look of shock and terror on her face.

Now there was silence on this isolated stretch of road. Silence, except for the sound of a truck and horse trailer that passing us by, victoriously moving on.

I walk to the back of the bus where my wife is pointing out the splattering of oil on the inside walls of the tires. I look around inside the engine compartment, blind to why my pedal behaved so rudely. So here we are, stuck on a mountaintop on Canada’s east coast, probably a hundred miles or more from the nearest garage. My wife is standing on her seat now, stretching her arm as high as it will go to try and get at least one bar to show up on the cell phone. No service. No way to call CAA. Extended coverage and free towing won’t help if we can’t make the call.

Perhaps it was only two or three minutes on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, I don’t think it was more than that, when a VW Jetta pulls over just in front of us. A man jumps out of his car and hollers over to us, “I’m a VW mechanic, what do you need?”

Seriously?! 

He quickly saw the obstruction and had us running with no harm to the motor in just a couple of minutes!

My friend and reader, that is just how it has been for us as we have now been over two years living in a VW bus and following our hearts and the voice of God from town to town all over North America.

This book will make an account of our travels and highlight many of our adventures as we have journeyed from “Fear to Faith”.