A FLAT TIRE, A LEAF AND A BIRD:
So, Friday morning, I left my house for work. As I walked to my car, I noticed the front left tire was fairly low. I thought, “GREAT. JUST GREAT. I need to just get to the bottom of the hill, about 3 miles away to get it aired up.” Just at the bottom of the hill, I heard the all-to-familiar rattle of the tire going flat. I knew it was just too far for me to try to make it to Bear Creek Country Store, where I could have drowned my stress in a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. The next closest safe zone, as there is no shoulder on Ferndale Cutoff, was the 4-H center.
I pulled in their parking lot and got out. The tire was a complete and total disaster. Walking to the back of the car to lift the hatch, I sensed a distinct tightness settling into my shoulders and a foreboding, a nameless dread, for some unknown reason. As I lifted the panel in the back of the car, I remembered why. There was no spare. And I took the jack out of the car while cleaning out the car a few months earlier.
I walked back to the driver’s seat and just sat there, swigging Dr. Pepper from a brown paper bag. I was close enough to the Vet clinic so I decided to walk there. On the way, I decided I would find a tire place that could come take the tire off and put a new tire on and bring it back. Easy enough. I got to the clinic and said “Hey” to everyone and then went outside to make some calls. Come to find out, no one offers that service. You have to take the tire in. Which makes NO sense to me. How can you take the tire in if it’s flat. They acted as though everyone has a spare tire in their car.
The only thing I could think to do at that moment was walk the three miles back home, grab the jack, walk back down the hill to the car, take the tire off and figure out what to do from there. I figured everything at work was okay, although I am the only one to open the store in the morning and had to call the manager 15 minutes before the store was supposed to open.
I began my walk home. Almost immediately, the old patterns began to seep around the corners of my mind. “You are so stupid. Why did you leave the jack out of the car? Why haven’t you figured out a way to get a spare tire? You are completely irresponsible. Worthless.” Before I let it go to far, I determined that I would NOT allow the enemy to turn this experience into a “martyr” or “bonehead”attitude of despair. I asked the Lord to walk with me and help me see His specific plan in this. I told Him I would sing. I told Him I would smile the whole way, even if part of the way it was a forced grin, which may or may not have looked odd or creepy to passersby. I thanked Him that instead of 4 wheels that go flat, I was walking on two legs with a motor that has lasted almost 10 times longer than the one in the car. I needed the exercise anyway. And I began to sing my current favorite song.
It’s okay, to not be okay
This is a safe place
This is a safe place
Don’t be afraid
Don’t be ashamed
There’s still hope here
There’s still hope here
Suddenly I felt something brush against my neck and I watched as a single leaf floated past my shoulder and down my arm to the pavement beside me. I glanced up to look at the towering oak and pine trees that spread branches over the cutoff. I watched the sparkle of sunlight as it danced and reflected on the asphalt around me and marveled at a mind that, season after season, places individually, every leaf on every tree on this planet. I stopped to take a couple of pictures. I used to think He did it so I could enjoy it. But, the truth is, if I sat on my deck at home and spent all summer counting the leaves on one of the trees in my yard, I’d never be able to finish it. It would be impossible. And that’s just one tree. Yet, every spring, God faithfully replaces every leaf, not for me to enjoy, but to show His glory. I listened to the rustling of the leaves as the wind passed through them, applauding the One who created them. And I thanked Him that I could have decent enough eyesight to see His glory all around me. I even clapped a little myself. “You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.” (Isaiah 55:12)
I couldn’t help but think, as I watched a few more leaves fall in front of me, of one of my favorite lines from a theatrical production, Cyrano De Bergerac. Cyrano has received a mortal wound on his head from an enemy and has made his way to an abbey to see the lady he has secretly been in love with for many years. Roxane has never known of Cyrano’s love for her. They are talking mostly about trivial things when the autumn leaves begin to fall. Cyrano notices them in the failing light and Roxane says, “They are Venetian Yellow. Watch them fall.” And Cyrano replies, “How well they fall. In this short journey from the branch to the earth, they succeed in showing a final beauty, and in spite of their fear of rotting on the ground, desire this fall to assume the grace of flight.” And I sang,
Oh God,
We breathe in Your grace
We breathe in Your grace
And exhale
Oh God we do not exist for us
But to share Your grace and love
And exhale
There was a buzzing from the side of the road that interrupted the moment and didn’t fit the meditative stance I was taking and the peace I was beginning to experience. I began to look into the brush to find the source of the unwelcome intrusion. Across the ditch from where I was standing, I saw a hummingbird. Now, hummingbirds are my favorite bird. Fascinating, if not extraordinarily territorial little critters. Their wings can beat as much as 70 times a second, in a circle so they are able to fly forwards or backwards and they can hover, which is what I thought this little feller was doing. I love to watch them. So, I stood and marveled at how still he could stay in mid air. But, something wasn’t right.
I finally realized he wasn’t hovering at all. In fact, he was writhing, frantically struggling to free himself from a spider’s web. Not sure where the spider might be, I moved quickly. As I got closer, I could see he was becoming more and more frightened. I walked over to ascertain the best way to free him. I put an index finger on each side of the web and pulled the web back. Although this action DID ultimately free him, it acted more as a slingshot and catapulted him through the air until he could find his equilibrium again, a few yards away, where he stopped and hovered. He turned and we considered each other for a few precious moments before he turned in mid-air and disappeared.
I thought, “Well, Lord, I know You regard Your creation. You watch and care deeply over every single creature you have created. You said, “Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you. In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:7-10) So, if my having a flat tire is part of your plan to save this smallest of your mighty hand, then I will gladly find your glory there. Thank you for letting me be here at just the right moment.”
And I sang:
Just let go
Let His love wrap around you
and hold you close
Get lost in the surrender
Breathe it in until your heart breaks
then exhale…exhale
I continued on my adventure for no more than 5 steps when my phone rang. I was still pretty much wrecked and letting the tears flow when my phone rang. It was Cliff, my buddy the Veterinarian. He said, “What are you doing?
I said, between sobs, “I just got to save a hummingbird.”
“What? Where are you?”
Gathering myself together as best I could. “I’m just taking a walk.”
“Well, where are you walking? The girls said you have a flat tire.”
“I’m about halfway up the hill.”
“Up YOUR HILL? Where’s your car?”
“Look. Dude, you have to work. I’m a big boy. I’ll handle this.”
“Is the flat fixed? Where’s the car?”
“It’s back at the 4-H center. Seriously, go to work.”
“Well, where are you going?”
“I’m going home to get my jack.”
“Your jack is at your house? And you’re going to carry it back down the hill all the way to the 4-H center? And then what?”
“Well, I’m just going to figure it out from there. Go to work.”
“Okay. Well, head back to the 4-H center. I’ll meet you there.”
He drove up the hill and picked me up.
Cliff said, “I’m off today. We’re going to Texas and Deane has some work to do before we leave. So, I’m good.”
I said, “I’m sure you have other stuff you need to be doing to get ready to go.”
He looked over at me, and said, “Tim…this is what friends do.”
He turned around and took me back to my car. He had his jack with him. He got down on his knees and while he took the tire off, we talked about a specific scene from “A Christmas Story,” he took the tire off, strapped it to the back of his truck, drove me to Sam’s, ran some errands, picked me back up at Sam’s, drove back to the car, got back down on his hands and knees and put the tire back on, got in his truck and turned his truck around to leave. As he drove off, he rolled down his window and yelled, “PUT YOUR JACK IN YOUR CAR!!!!
A few minutes later, on my way to work with a brand new tire, I thought about my buddy Cliff, the hallowed ground I stand on in the presence of such a Godly servant’s heart. And the God whose bountiful generosity is clearly evident in the forever family He has lavished on me. I thought about the brilliant creativity of the great Star Breather on display in the expert uniqueness of a single leaf that brushed against my shoulder. I thought about the aerodynamically impossible design and strength of the little hummingbird, flying safely from flower to flower, remembering every single flower he has ever gathered nectar from, drinking in as much sugar as he can, preparing and planning his long, lonely, arduous flight across the gulf of Mexico, flying 20 straight hours, to vacation for the winter in warmer climates. And I thought, “not even Solomon, in all his splendor was clothed as richly as me.”
Then I breathed it in…and I exhaled.
