life lesson #234

I just remembered this is a good lesson I learned the other day. So...I was trying to drive to Tororo to meet with a couple (ugandan wife and kenyan husband) who are passionate about missions and business. Tororo is about 95miles away from Soroti, so hypothetically, if one was driving at 70mph on a good road it would take just over an hour and a half to get there. But because of the state of the road it takes at least two hours just to get to mbale which is only around 65 miles away, then you have the other 30 miles beyond that. So, I had started the journey early knowing I wanted to spend as much time with these people as possible that day. I left soroti by 6:45am and after driving for around 40 minutes, the oil light started coming on so I stopped and called the mechanic (i had just picked the car up from him the day before!) and he suggested I come back and not continue on my journey. So i brought him the car and he dropped me on the side of the road at the far end of town to wait for public transport.

There are three main options for public transport from soroti to mbale and tororo. One is a taxi, aka a matatu, aka a van licensed to carry 14 passengers but usually pack in at least 20, aka death trap. Two, a bus, aka big bull in a china shop, doesn't seem necessary to slow down for any bumps, and doesn't mind running people off the road cuz they're bigger than every one else. Three, the back of an overloaded truck, not really an option for me, i've seen too many of them broken down on the side of the road, or rolled over in the ditch...Anyway, I met a man along the road who said he was a broker, whatever that means, and he informed me there was a bus coming soon that was going through Tororo to kampala and that would be my best option for getting there. I knew of this bus, called Post Bus, i'd often wondered at it's bright red paint and the newness look it had to it, thinking it was the best of all the buses that i'd seen (at least externally speaking), so I was happy to think that i might be able to catch that one and cruise on down to Tororo in style and comfort and in a timely manner. I waited for a while, i don't know how long really, maybe twenty minutes, but it seemed long (one man had already asked me to buy him water and suggested that I marry the broker, i suggested he could sell his nice shoes if he wanted water that bad, and I said I wasn't interested in the broker, he said he would sell me one shoe for 10,000, 4$), and i wondered if this bus was really coming. I had watched several taxi's come and go, and up to now i had resisted the temptation to just board a taxi and get crammed in the back with the other victims, or passengers, as they call them here. No taxi would go straight through to Tororo, all would stop in Mbale and then i would have to get another taxi from there. But as i waited the idea started sounding better and better. The man insisted the bus was coming, but i've learned through life experience here that, "it's coming" can mean in a few minutes or in a few hours depends on the person's perspective and general up-bringing perhaps. anyway, so finally when the third taxi came i decided to board and quit the waiting game. I boarded a half full taxi, which was my first mistake, after picking me they immediately headed in the opposite direction that i wanted to go, back into town, to pick more passengers, they wouldn't leave Soroti until we had at least 20 people crammed into that thing. And as we headed back into town, i bet you'll never guess what happened...yup...the beautiful, luxurious, bright and shiny red Post bus comes cruising down the road in the opposite direction. And I was trapped, i complained, i whined a bit, but when it came right down to it, there was nothing I could do. I had chosen my fate and had to suffer the consequences. So after the taxi wandered around town for a while we finally filled up and headed out, after about a half hour drive we had to stop just before a bridge and wait for about a half hour as construction machines were blocking the road. And of course I noticed that the Post bus had made it across the bridge before they blocked it. To say the least I was annoyed. I tried to have a good attitude, and what, but i could only keep seeing that bright shiny post bus cruising down the road, picturing myself comfortable and high above the ground, barely feeling the bumps. Then I would get jarred back to reality, by the crying baby and three other women in my row and the lack of shocks on this particular vehicle. The story continues, but I think by now you get the point. It took 5 hours to reach my final destination in tororo. it's hard to describe the smells, the heat, the bumps, the overloadedness, but try to use your imagination.

so...Let's apply to our lives now. How many times have we heard God say, "wait, I'm coming" and we wait for a while, but then think that we have a better way, a quicker solution, a more profitable idea, and we jump on that, only to find out it's leading us in the opposite direction. Oh to think if we could have just waited 5 minutes longer, or 5 days, or months, or years...whatever the time. What have we missed because we thought we were wiser than the One who knows us, our pasts, presents and futures. I eventually got to Tororo, but it took a lot longer and i suffered along the way. I thank you Lord for your grace that allows us to mess up, to doubt, to head in the wrong direction and yet you still pursue us, still call us back to Your self and still help us get to where you want us to be. Lord, help us to wait trusting You, and that you have good motives and good intentions for our waiting.