About halfway between the towns where I respectively live and work, a flattened tire brings my Monday morning to a halt.
An instinctively quick call to my husband soothes most of the angst. Even though I am stranded in the August heat (thank you, 7a.m., for blazing in like it's high noon), he is on his way and I only need to wait a little while.
I open the back of the car and begin moving things out of the way so that the spare tire can be easily accessed. *Correction: readily accessed. Easily does not describe the escape room activity we would need to complete in order to locate, remove, and install the dusty donut caked with the roadway adventures of a dozen years.
I think back to the Summer of 1988. I wanted to take my first two-hour solo trip in the 1985 two-toned blue Chevy Citation. The pre-req for receiving Dad's permission was for me to go out to the driveway and completely replace the back left tire with the spare. Without help. Then I had to drive around the block, and return to swap them back.
Just as I'm juggling gratitude and aggravation for my dad and his no-joke parenting strategies, I see yellow flashes of light in my rear-view mirror. Philip's work truck boasts flashy lights, lots of tools, bright orange cones and a cable winch should he need it.
In what seems to be an actual jiffy, he changes the tire, follows me to the tire shop, then drives me to work on his way back to his own day.
I climb down out of the truck, and walk to my office in a haze of thankfulness, dazed by the deep peace my heart feels even though my pesky brain keeps trying to bring up the potential anxiousness peppering the last hundred minutes of my life. The anxiety seems like mist while peace and gratitude feel real.
I brew a tardy cup of coffee and think some more.
Why is everything good? Because Philip answered my call, and came to help. Not only did he provide an immediate remedy, he stayed with me until I could make it safely to a place where I could secure a long-term solution. Then he filled in the gaps and met my needs while I waited for repair. And he did it all with humility, excellence and kindness.
I sit at my desk, sip my coffee and whisper, "Just like Jesus." His ability to answer, attend, assist, accompany . . . all with humility, patience and joy.
My pesky brain pipes in, "Think of all the people who DON'T have Philip to come to their rescue . . . "
Think of all the people who don't have Jesus.
We are commissioned to be light and love and life. Just like Jesus.
To answer, attend, assist and accompany. Providing immediate presence and remedy until a long-term solution is secured. To fill in the gaps, meet the needs, and wait for restoration. All with gentleness and joy.
Not only do I want to be ready to put love into action, I want to make connections and pave paths so that people know my number and instinctively think to call.
Jesus, help me.
**For those who like to extend metaphors, my account at the tire shop has hazard protection, so the labor and cost of perpetual rescue and repair is included in the plan purchased for me and comes for free. Why would I go anywhere else? #Preach
