Although I loved going home for the weekend in college, I always dreaded the 5 hour drive it required. After ALL that time in the car I would be stiff, cranky, and feeling completely justified doing my complaining. 5 hours was the max and not a minute more. The travel days were a small concern in my mind when I decided to sign up for The World Race. I had read blogs about absurd amounts of time spent on a bus or waiting in airports, but honestly, how long could they really be? Our bus ride from Peru to Bolivia would really prove to answer that question.
61 hours later, Yes that is 6-1, we had successfully arrived in Apolo, Bolivia. Everyone on the squad was completely exhausted, but nonetheless; in good spirits. I was feeling accomplished for handling the long hours that had passed with poise, especially after spending 24 of those hours throwing up from carsickness. I felt confident that the craziest of travel days were now behind me. Little did I know that just 2 days later the bar would be raised once more.
Our manly group of men sat unexpectedly on the curb in-front of our ministry compound. The pastor had arranged for us to take a short trip to a small mountain town called Huaratumo to run their church services for the weekend. The town was just 4 hours away and our van would be arriving any moment to begin the journey. As the rest of the story unfolded much like a Dr. Suess book, I felt it was only right that I attempt to describe it in that manner.
**The following story may best be digested if read aloud**
On the corner we sat, warmed by the sun,
Awaiting the van escort, the journey would be fun
The time was growing late, where could the van be,
I thought our ride was set, for a quarter past three
When a ways up the street, a red truck came roaring,
The truck was our escort, our trip would not be boring
Then the driver piped up, “In the bed you will ride!”
But the bed was packed tight, there was no where to hide
From tires to gas tanks, and food sacks galore,
We stuffed in our bags, from the cage to the floor,
In the spaces between, we managed to fit,
What an uncomfortable ride, with no places to sit
With Brandon, and Juan, and myself all included,
Cole Bruner, and Josh, and Chance not excluded
The team was all off, for the journey ahead,
Sandwiched together, in the little truck bed
We laughed and we joked, for this could not be real,
When the truck screamed to a stop, the breaks they did squeal
Up bounced a woman, beaming with glee,
“I could sure use a ride, do you have space for me?”
Adjustments were made, for she was quite nice,
We squeezed her all in, with her big bag of rice
Now set to take off, for the journey in store,
When a woman cried out, “One more, one more!”
Light she did travel, would one more not fit,
But the sack on her back, sure brought a good kick,
Her cargo was curious, If I say so myself,
Just a baby Bolivian, not the size of an elf,
Could things get more twisted, the truck was once thinner,
Then she slid up her shirt, it was time for his dinner,
Crazy this was, as the truck was exploding,
To the brim we were packed, it was time to get going
For hours we drove, over rivers and streams,
We cried out in laughter, this was surely a dream
The truck came to a halt, in a small town of fifty,
The driver ran off, with a demeanor so shifty
We sat and we waited, as time did drag on,
The back came the driver, like he’d never been gone,
In his hand was a sack, the was cluckin’ and kickin’,
For the driver ran off, to purchase 3 chickens
Now poultry, and babies, and missionaries galore,
Not much was missing, what more was in store?
Then up popped two children, homeward bound they did go,
Just two more to fit, as the truck overflowed
Onward we went, on dirt roads and small paths,
As the sky clouded up, it was time for our bath
The clouds then poured out, soaking us with rain,
Our patience ran thin, what a lesson to gain
It kept dumping down, the sound sweet like a harp,
With one place to go, we slipped under the tarp
Now tightly we packed, how we fit I don’t know,
Claustrophobic I am, how much longer to go,
The trip did drag on, as the rain came to a halt,
A tough lesson learned, taken with a grain of salt,
The blue skies were open, our path was looking clear,
What a ridiculous journey, the end was surely near
Now into the village, the truck came to a stop,
Just five hours later, we arrived at the top,
When things sure seem crazy, and you feel like you’re cursed,
Just remember this lesson, things could always be worse.
The end.
All word-play aside, I learned a few important lessons that day. First, no matter how crazy or hard things may get, they could always get worse. That ride helped me appreciate the difficult trials God puts me through, for He will never give me more than I can handle. Second, your outlook on a situation completely sets the tone for the outcome. I approached the madness with an positive mind and was able to enjoy the ride, regardless of how hard some parts were. God puts a silver lining on everything.
Those two lessons can be easily summarized by the World Race mantra: Choose Joy. When we were piled under the tarp, I found myself awkwardly pinned between a bag of rice, a woman’s leg, and our translator’s sling, and I couldn’t help but smile. I was bouncing around in the bed of a truck, with 15 people, in the Amazon Jungle, in Bolivia, on my way to serve God. How crazy is that and how blessed am I? The craziest ride of my life really opened my eyes to appreciate everything in the life God is unfolding before me.
