A Bigger Picture, Part III

At noon the next day, my daughter was to begin her mission trip.  Her team will have to drive over an hour to the airport, take a 10 hour flight, a 2 hour flight and another 2 hour flight.  Her destination, Malta.  She will be working with refugees who have fled Africa for a better life and somehow, either because of pirating or a shipwreck, they ended up on this little Island in the Mediterranean Sea.  The Island is 316 miles long (“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16 - just saying).  It houses 3 refugee camps (tent communities) that house between 800 and 1,000 refugees per camp.  Many of the refugees are without loved ones and live with no hope of leaving Malta.  One of the workshops my daughter wrote was a job skills workshop.  Teaching the refugees how to fill out a job application, how to talk about their talents, and how to prepare for an interview.  A missionary couple on the island has been trying to find a way into the men's camp, but up until now were unsuccessful.  The missionaries received my daughter's workshop proposal, it was posted at the men's camp and a sign-up sheet was filled with names.  It was an "in" to the men's camp.  The missionaries are the hands and feet of Jesus as they minister to the needs of these forgotten people.  With acts of kindness and the teaching of workshops, they hope to let the love of Christ shine.  Failed brakes will not thwart the plans of the Almighty!  My daughter's car needed to be fixed and parked in school lot before I hopped back on a plane to New Jersey.  That meant I had to fix the brakes first thing in the morning.  The car was not drivable, so I needed to call a tow truck.  The tow truck driver arrived late, took a wrong turn, got behind a school bus, and spoke a deep south language that was unrecognizable to me.  I just kept nodding my head and looking at  my watch.  When I got to Midas and the car was put up on the lift, Big M showed me where the brake line burst.  I remembered the words that my daughter heard in training.  Big M said it would be a two hour job. "My daughter leaves in a few hours!  Can someone drive me to her school?" I pleaded!  "Sure. Edgar will drive you." . . . to be continued . . .