I want to throw my pack off a ledge into traffic where it will be destroyed and I will never have to pick it up again.
This is what I tell one of my teammates as we wait for our next bus.
Travel day has turned into travel days, and I am no longer certain we will ever reach our destination. I’m losing count of busses, losing track of what day it is, losing track of what country I’m in. I have the worst sunburn of my life, and every time I slide that pack on I want to cry.
To top it all off, I am hungry. It’s past nine pm, and none of us have eaten supper yet. In previous countries this would be no big deal. I would just buy the first thing I saw and be done with it. But I’ve been spending too much money and placing too much importance on food the past few months. So I went and got the bright idea to only spend money given to us each day for our food budget. No personal money on food at all.
The previous food stop this day has made me wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. We are given $3.00 a day for food here. That’s nine ringgits. That’s three per meal, and most meals start at four.
So now I am not only hungry, I’m kind of scared as well.
I know I shouldn’t be afraid, because God has about a bazillion promises about how He’ll always be there and take care of me and all of that. But when it’s time for these promises to be tested in real life, I tend to get a little shaky. We’re still working on that faith stuff, God and me. I’m thankful He lets me retake the class a lot, and doesn’t throw me out of school.
Cassie and I walk around the mall in Kuala Lumpur, praying for provision. We expect it will come in the form of finding a restaurant with food we can actually afford. But instead the only thing we can find to eat is a plain soft pretzel from Auntie Annie’s. It’s good, and I’m thankful, but I would be lying if I said I was completely satisfied.
And then Cassie gets an idea. “What do you think they do with the pretzels when they close,” she says. “Dare me to go and ask if we can have some before they throw them away?”
“Of course I dare you!” I say.
She offers to let me go outside and wait in case I get embarrassed, but I tell her I’m not embarrassed. I am too hungry to be embarrassed.
So she goes up to the counter and starts talking with the man. At first he doesn’t understand, but after a couple of tries he gets it. They close at ten. The employees eat some, and the rest are trashed. Cassie asks if we can have some when they close.
“How many do you want,” he says. “One or two?”
She tells him two would be great, and he hands her a cinnamon pretzel and an almond pretzel. Two free pretzels. Twenty minutes before the store even closes.
We carry the food back to the place where we are waiting for our bus, laughing and praising God the whole time. By the time I finish my free pretzel, I am full and satisfied and overwhelmed. Not only did God provide enough food to satisfy me, but He provided the good stuff. Not plain pretzels. Cinnamon. Almond. The good ones.
That event completely set the tone for this month, and this Race, and hopefully the rest of my life.
I am no longer worried about food this month, because I know God will provide me with what I need. If He thinks I need to be hungry, I will be hungry and that will be okay. But I know that He is also there with free ice cream cake. (Yes, I’ve also gotten free ice cream cake this month.)
Just try and tell me God doesn’t exist. Just try and tell me He doesn’t speak. Just try and tell me He doesn’t care.
Because He speaks to me often. Sometimes through the pretzel guy.
