Skip to main content

Day Eleven

Almost two weeks late to the party, I am. Ooops. Time flies when you go on safari, and then go home, and then a lot of home things start happening. I started this blog the evening after the events that took place, SOOO it's going to sound like it happened today. #sorrynotsorry

I was in a motorbike accident today.

And if you are reading this, then I think your deductive reasoning skills are developed well enough to figure out that I was not seriously hurt. I'll skip the photos of my injuries. Just know I am bruised, scraped, and sore, but alive and grateful my injuries are minor.

Bwana asifiwe (Praise the Lord).

Today was a busy day for us. Pastor Rich, Mary Jo, and Patty stayed at Kilimani while Doris and I went out to the mission church that Pastor Paul leads. I was to preach there, and Doris went with me because so that I would not be going alone (safety concerns and all that good stuff). We would join them back at Kilimani and have a short celebration of what we had seen God do this week before we all headed off to an association gathering that afternoon. Because of the location of the mission, Doris, Pastor Paul, and I all made our way there on motorbikes. Pastor Paul was on one, and Doris and I on the other.

On a good day, riding on a motorbike makes me nervous. Here in Kenya, the drivers are crazy good at what they do, but they also go crazy fast and (in my mind) take crazy as risks that scare the living daylights out of me. So when Pastor Paul cautioned our driver to go slower than normal, I was grateful.

That thankfulness lasted until we got to about the midway point of the last (steep) climb before we reached the church. In being conscientious of his speed, our driver was a little bit too conscientious. Because of that, the motor stalled out. I was in the back, so I was the first to tumble off. Doris fell right on top of me.

photo courtesy of Doris Buffington Acton-Dukes

Me later that day, at the scene of the accident. The next time I use the
angle of my arm as a visual, you know I'm not exaggerating.
For a few moments, as everything else around me was in chaos, I just lay there on my back staring up at the sky and wanting to laugh. I was a little dazed and the wind was knocked out of me for a few seconds, but otherwise I felt fine. I held it in, though, because I could hear Pastor Paul and the drivers of both bikes calling out as they came down the hill to make sure Doris and I were okay. Letting them know that I wasn't badly hurt seems far more important than just laying there laughing.

My inward laughter in that moment came from what I saw as the hilarity of the situation because of how God had answered my prayers. The moment I stepped onto the motorbike this morning, I was praying we would be safe and we would get to the church in one piece. If I hadn't, my imagination would have been running wild with all the possible scenarios (good and bad). Those prayers got more intense when we hit steeper hills, and tapered off some on the flat parts and the downhills, but I was praying the whole time.

And yes, my prayers were quite fervent in the seconds the motor stalled out and I fell off.

I know there are more than a few people reading this post who are thinking that this accident is not really an answer to prayer. Doris and I fell off the motorbike. We both were hurt. Riding motorbikes, falling off, and getting hurt are not bullet points on a list of characteristics of safety.

You're right.

The details, though. Those are the answer to prayer. The lack of speed, the way we landed, how the driver had just enough control of the motorbike left to lay it down on its side instead of falling off with us. I've run the possible scenarios through my head a thousand times in the course of writing this account, and the details are what I keep coming back to. God didn't stop the accident (although He easily could have), but He kept us alive. More than that, He kept us safe and well enough to make it the rest of the way up the hill to deliver the message that needed to be delivered to His people.

The rest of that day went fast. We went to Kilimani and celebrated, we went to the association meeting and shared there, we visited with some pastors afterward, then we went to our little home for the week to rest and to prepare for our departure from Mombasa on Tuesday.

God is good, and He hears us when we call on Him. I can't think of a greater testimony to come out of this day than that.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Metaphors: Candles

I've recently fallen in love with candles. Since coming home from the World Race , I've bought at least one a month. My favorite candles are the ones that come in glass jars - because when they burn out, I can clean the remaining wax out and put the jars to other uses. Right now,  that means they get cleaned out and packed away in anticipation of my move to Flagstaff. But as I was lighting one tonight (vanilla spice... Thanksgiving smells? Yes, please!), I saw a metaphor for writing flickering away in the flame licking at the wick and melting the wax. I suppose it could be a metaphor for life in general, but since the theme of this blog is writing... Well, you do the math.

[Five Minute Friday] Purpose

Fiber bars, strewn along the side of the road. There had to be at least a dozen of them, still in their wrappers and completely unopened. No box in sight. Really? That's about the reaction my younger sister and I had when we stumbled on them on our early morning run. Really? along with disgusted sighs about the wastefulness of it. These were the expensive ones, not a generic store brand that kind of tastes and kind of looks the same sometimes. So, when we weren't keeping an eye out for their box, we speculated about what had happened. And wondered how many more we were going to see before the end of our run. "Maybe they took one bite and thought they were gross," my sister said. "So they threw them out because they didn't want them anymore." I let out one of those disgusted sighs and nodded along with her theory. "Yeah, or they got in a huge fight, and threw them out in a fit of rage." "That's a possibility." And

Book Review: Always Gray in Winter

Happy Thursday! Welcome to the first book review of Spring 2019. Today, I'm looking at science fiction and furry writer Mark J. Engels' debut novel, Always Gray in Winter - which is also the first in a series. Disclaimer/Permission Tag: The book for this month's review was provided to me for free by the author in exchange for a fair and honest review of their work. Also, the cover art is being used with permission of the author. Always Gray in Winter Mark J. Engels, 2017, Thurston Howl Publications Description:  A distant daughter. A peculiar device. A family lineage full of secrets. When werecat Pawlina Katczynski finally resurfaces, her location previously unknown to anyone close to her, the reunion is short of welcomed. Instead, she finds herself thrust tooth and nail—tooth and claw—into a feud between opposing werecat clans as her family and their enemies reignite a battle that has raged for years. Always Gray in Winter invites the reader to j