One summer probably around 2010, after a family reunion, we drove Seth and Tiffany’s family (who lived in Minnesota at the time) from your home in Utah to our home in Oregon in our 8-passenger mini-van.. It was blazing hot and the four Lewis boys were still quite young. Asher was likely a baby.
Years before the gas gauge had broken on our van and I was too cheap to get it repaired. We left from your home on a very hot summer morning with a full tank of gas, but made a “detour” to Cache Valley to see Grandma’s family before heading to Oregon. Because of the heat, I’m sure we were running the car air conditioning at full blast. We finally got on the road and around the middle of the day we were about a mile from our exit at Mountain Home, ID where we usually stop for gas.
Uncle Seth was driving when suddenly the car died. We had run out of gas. We were still rolling along, but the engine had stopped. Fortunately, there was an exit just a few yards ahead so I asked Uncle Seth to take that exit. The momentum of the car allowed us to coast right up behind a flat bed truck that was stopped on the exit ramp. There were no gas stations or any buildings that I could see even close to this exit.
I was so embarrassed that I had miscalculated the amount of gas we had (confident we’d make it to our usual exit) and now stranding these dear little boys along with Grandma Lewis and Aunt Tiffany in 100-plus-degree weather on the side of I-84 and no civilization in sight—except for this flat bed truck in front of us.
I sheepishly went up to the truck cab and was relieved to find a driver inside eating lunch. I asked if there was any chance he had some spare gas on him.
He hardly said a word, but just got out of his truck, reached up onto the bed of his truck and removed a gas can, the lone item on the huge flatbed. He walked over to our car and began pouring in several gallons of gas into our tank. As he did so, he asked me, “Did you say your prayers this morning?” I answered I surely had. “Well,” he said, “so did I. And I prayed that I would be able to help someone on the road today.”
I offered to cover the cost of the gas, but he declined. He just reminded me that the Lord had watched over us both that day.
We then drove off easily reaching the next exit where we filled up to the brim—all within about 5 minutes of running out of gas.
It happened so fast the children didn’t even have time to get out and stretch their legs. As I have thought back on that experience, I have marveled how many things had to happen so perfectly and precisely for us to roll up right behind that flat bed truck with a driver who had loaded an extra can of gasoline on his struck and prayed God would allow him to help someone that day.
We were the answer to his prayers and he was the answer to ours.
It was a miracle I’ll never forget.
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