My car broke down.
I slowed for the red light and heard the engine quit. I put it in neutral and turned the key to restart, and it tried. It really did. But then it quit again. The panic started rising in me as I pressed the emergency flashers button and watched the red light turn green. The cars behind me grumbled as they had to suddenly maneuver around the obstacle.
The next ten minutes were a blur as I coaxed and cajoled the engine to no avail, fumbled in the dark for the roadside assistance number, watched headlights in my rearview speed towards the green light in front of me then swerve around just in time, realized “I got to get out of here,” grabbed my purse and headed for the sidewalk, tried to keep the panic from my voice as I gave the operator my location details.
He’ll be there in 45 minutes, she said.
I hung up, stood alone in the late night quiet and waited.
And watched my blinking car get nearly run over three times.
And wished I had grabbed my warm scarf from the seat beside me before leaping from the car.
Then suddenly he was there. The tow truck driver in his big flashing truck.
I stood shivering on the sidewalk doing absolutely nothing while he easily positioned his truck in front of my obviously broken down car, tilted the flatbed thingy down towards the pavement, chained my front tires and hooked up a pull thing, then slowly eased my car onto the platform. In no time at all my car was loaded and the driver was heading for the mechanic’s.
And I, in my helplessness, stood by and watched.
I suppose I could have offered to help him. But what help could I have given? I didn’t know where to put the chains, didn’t know which levers to operate to move the flatbed, didn’t know how far in front to position the tow truck. I didn’t even have the mechanic’s address.
But he did.
That’s his job, and he knew exactly what to do. Experience exuded from him. His motions were quick, confident. Lifting my little car was an easy task; he’d handled much larger vehicles so many times before.
So it was okay for me to stand by and watch, and be impressed. And pull my jacket around me and feel grateful that he was there to solve my problem.
And I wondered, is that what God means when He says, “Trust me”?
“casting all your care upon him”
“be anxious for nothing”
“come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
God is the tow truck driver arriving to save the day. My little dilemma an easy task for Him; He’s handled much larger dilemmas so many times before.
So I stand on the sidewalk and watch Him doing His job. And thank Him for being there for me. And rest while He works.
(My car got towed. My sister arrived to drive me home. The mechanic fixed. And I was back behind the wheel in no time!)