Gratitude

And so ends another day of travel for the Crow family.  It is currently 1:10 a.m. and the children are not in bed, not because we prefer it that way, but because our house is a disaster.  This is a brief overview of how it happened.

While packing up today, I discovered that two of my cords had melted together.  I am not sure exactly why that happened, but I had to leave them together because all my efforts to separate them proved futile.  It was not that big of a deal because I always carry both cords with me anyway whenever I travel.  Only this time, they are melted together.

On the way out, we stopped by Byhalia Tire and Battery to make sure we had enough air in the tires.  The reason?  We were unable to get a spare in time.  Southaven RV can do nothing until they receive insurance permission which, so far, has not been forthcoming.  Once all the tire pressures were checked, we were given the go ahead to take off.

The drive through MS, AL, and GA proved seemless and uneventful, even going through Birmingham at rush hour.  Atlanta, too was not a problem, though less of surprise because we hit it at 8:00 at night.  By the time we hit the SC border, it was dark, but we were rolling along nicely, hoping to make it to NC before midnight.

That was when the bottom dropped out.  Of the stabilizer jack, that  is.  We have no idea why one side decided to deploy while we were going down the road, but the scraping sound behind us combined with the sparks was a dead give away.  The pin was bent, evidently having been hit by some unseen piece of debris--could it have been a tire?--on the side of the road.  Not only had the object bent our stabilizer leg enough to drop it; it had also broken the drain valve on the trailer's water system.  There are two valves that, when opened, drain the entire trailer water system by gravity, allowing for winterizing should the need arise.  One of these valves broke off and drained our water system all up I-85.

Only by the use of highly honed roofing hatchet techniques was the stabilizer made so we could travel again.  The water valve was simply left to drain.

When we got to Kings Mountain, I pulled into my spot and leveled the trailer, just as I had done dozens of times before.  Then, I endeavored to repair the broken valve.  Using electrical tape, which they say is waterproof, I tightly wound the hole in the valve so as to effect a temporary repair.  I knew that I could not plug in the power without water in the heater tank lest the heater element burn up and have to be replaced.

So it was water first on this occasion.  I stretched the hose, hooked everything up, and turned on the water.  Scientific discovery: if electrical tape is waterproof, it cannot sustain any amount of water pressure.  As I walked into the house, I asked Sarah if she had left the faucets on.  Hearing that she had not, I proceeded to my tape fix to find it spraying water in all directions.  We still do not have water in the trailer.

Then I took out my power cord, all 60 feet of it.  The plug here is about 17 feet from the trailer.  Once again, Sarah and I worked to get the two cords apart, but to no avail.  So we decided to leave them together and get the AC running as soon as possible.  The hot water heater was turned off by this point.

We then opened the slides to find that the back drawers of the kids dresser had come out during the trip and had broken off.  Clothes were everywhere, as was Daniel's diaper rash medicine.  The tube had been ruptured by the falling drawer.

So now, after a drive of 590 miles, no water, no supper, and a boatload of repairs facing me in the morning, I am finally ready to go to bed.

Anyway, I said all that to say this: "Thank the Lord our tires didn't blow."

Streams in the Desert

The prophet Isaiah predicted a time when “in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert.” (Is. 35:6)  This past week has been a time of wilderness ministry for me.

Gila Christian Ranch sits in the mountains just north of Silver City, New Mexico.  I was first asked to preach there when the scheduled evangelist had to cancel his teen week obligations due to his daughter’s wedding.  (Lots of unanswered questions come to my mind at this point, but I have deemed it best to leave them unanswered.)  I have ministered at the camp in some capacity every summer for the last three years.

Though the camp is technically not in the desert—its average rainfall of 25 inches a year more than doubles the desert threshold of 10—it is still wilderness, being bounded by state land and the Gila National Forest.  The camp has to generate all its own electricity, pump all its own water, dispose of all its own trash, raise its own beef, etc.  It is old school camp that puts campers into a rustic country setting in order to get them away from the world.

It is also old school in its spiritual emphasis.  Camp director Randy Rhodes loves God and loves the idea of the concentrated spiritual emphasis that camp provides.

This last week, the Lord did not send us any physical rain, a fact for which we are all grateful.  The miles of dirt road leading to camp are made nearly impassable by the rains.  God did, however, choose to bless us with spiritual blessing at camp. 

Campers were born again under the camp pavilion nearly 6,900 feet above sea level.  Others surrendered their lives to full time Christian service.  One boy had just seen his father taken off to prison.  He came to his counselor in tears, being convicted by God of his need to honor his parents, regardless of whether or not they were honorable people.

As I come down from the mountain to my other meetings, I find myself teary-eyed as I reflect on what He did this last week; and on the fact that He allowed me to have a small part in His sending streams in the desert.