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.