Can’t Put God in a Box

Jerry told us today that he would be glad to bring our boxes from Texas to Tennessee in November. It was the culmination of a story that only God could orchestrate and one that begs to be told.

We left 15 of our boxes in the hands of Clay and Amanda in April. They were planning on returning to Nashville with their company and offered to bring our things out of Mexico on their moving truck. In June we got a note from Clay, “I have some news. Amanda and I are working on raising support now so that we can stay.”

Out went a batch of notes to our friends, “We have run into a bit of a snag with getting some of our boxes out of Mexico. We are wondering if any of you might be driving out any time this summer or fall.” No response. Then, days later, a note from Rob and Laura to whom we had not written nor ever met, “Just wanted to let you know that we would be willing to help bring some of your things back to the border in July.” Yes!

One huge problem resolved…kind of. We still needed to get the boxes from Puebla to Cuernavaca two hours away, find a place to store them in McAllen, Texas, and then get them to West Virginia. So, out went another batch of notes and again no reply. Last Friday, less than a week before the window of opportunity closed on this one, Debbie wrote. Senor Ernesto whom we had met only once was willing to deliver our things to Cuernavaca. We were relieved, but still unsure what we would do once they arrived in McAllen. Our thought was God got them out of the country, we don’t have to have the other answers yet, we’ll trust.

On Saturday I was driving past a house that has been sitting empty since our return. At one point we had been interested in renting it, but had never been able to contact the owners. Now here before me were people loading up trailers with furniture. I stopped to inquire about it. In the course of the conversation, it came out that we had just returned from Mexico. The owners said that the guy helping them lives in Rio Bravo. Outside I met Tom a missionary with ICCD. We talked awhile about Mexico. “By the way,” I asked him, “what is the US border town near Rio Bravo.” “McAllen.” With a bit of hesitation and a bit of hope, I ventured the question, “Would you know of somewhere that we could store our things?” His answer made my heart skip a beat. “Yes, contact Melanie at the United Methodist Church. They have a storage room there to help in these kinds of situations. And contact Buddy and Fanny, they work out the logistics. And contact Jerry in Kingsport, Tennessee. He’s coming with a group in October and has a partially empty trailer on the way back.” Was this too good to be true? Would God send someone to within a mile of where we are currently living to work out the final details?

I called Fanny that evening to tell her our situation. She not only was willing to help but happily went beyond the call of duty. When I expressed amazement, she said, “We pray and ask for these things; we shouldn’t be surprised when God answers.” I called Jerry today; sure enough he’s pulling a sixteen foot trailer and more than willing to help too.

I stand amazed (although I know I shouldn’t be) that we are left with yet another story of divine intervention, and a reminder that when it comes to working out the impossible you can’t put God in a box.