24 Hours
Three sisters, part of our family at The Well, had a family crisis. And when one in our family has a family crisis, we go. A child was in the hospital in critical condition, and we hadn’t seen two of the sisters in some time. We wanted to give hugs, prayers and encouragement. To do so would require an eight hour bus ride upcountry followed by unknown local transport to their rural village. A few hours into the trip, a phone call informed us that both sisters had been called away to work and wouldn’t be able to meet us after all, and the child in critical condition had been taken away by his dad to a different hospital.
My first reaction? Resentment. Not a glamorous missionary reaction, right? 5 AM wake-up followed by an 8-hour bus ride on a rare, open weekend and nobody would be there. Seriously? Isn’t my time more important than a wild goose chase literally across the country?
Jub smiled at my clear disgruntledness and settled in to her bus seat to catch some sleep on the way. Her calm attitude convicted me.
Almost to our destination, we called the girls’ mom directly since she was likely the only one still home. She had gotten very sick and asked us to meet her at the hospital. We met her at the local clinic where they had given her a shot of morphine and sent her on her way. (Thai health care at its finest.) We followed her home, sat with her, visited, and played with the sweet one-year-old that had spent his first six months of life at The Well before going back to live with his grandma.
Mom’s signs of sickness worsened and we helped her get to a more legitimate hospital for better medical attention. Off she went, and that was it. Jub and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and started looking for a creative transportation mode to start our trek back to Bangkok.
We walked in the door at home almost exactly 24 hours after we had left. Over 20 hours in a moving vehicle of various shapes and sizes, less than 4 hours of visiting, and nowhere close to fulfilling our originally intended purpose. And yet, it seemed God knew more than we did.
Mom got the hospital attention she needed. Sisters felt cared for. Jub got some sleep on the bus. And I got my weekly dose of humble pie-in-the-face.
Wild goose chase? Perhaps. A weird way to spend a weekend? Yep. Thankful that God takes extraordinary measures to remind me that He’s not only in charge, but actually knows what He’s doing? Absolutely.