"Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." (Matt. 6:34, NIV)
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Many have asked what day-to-day life is like in Cebu. It sounds cliché, but days are often unpredictable, filled with unexpected setbacks, opportunities, and a healthy amount of silliness. This blog shares a funny story about all three.
The day started off strong. I (Roberto) met with a local missionary who had been serving in Cebu alongside his wife for 2 years. We shot the breeze, drank coffee at a local shop, shared stories and prayer requests, and at the end of it, he had asked if I would enter into a coaching relationship with him. I happily agreed as it had been years since I'd taken the time to coach another servant of God. We discussed the details of what this would look like, shared more funny stories, and prayed for one another before parting ways.
... days are often unpredictable, filled with unexpected setbacks, opportunities, and often a health amount of silliness.
It was a great start. I returned home to have an early lunch with Heather and the kids before heading out with them to CSC's new building: Hope House. The plan was to spend a couple of hours joining the Hope House residents in hauling dirt to the roof-top gardens which will eventually be used for urban farming. From ingredients for home cooked meals, to items that can be sold, the produce from these gardens will become a big part of our residents' livelihood training.
On the way there, we made a quick pit-stop. Our daughter's friend group had asked her (and, subsequently, me) if they could hang out at the mall before Youth Group. As exciting as it sounds to carry dirt up three flights of stairs, I knew as soon as the question was asked that we would be stopping by the mall. We dropped her off with the plan of picking her up after Youth Group since the mall was just across the street from our church.
By the time we arrived at Hope House, they were already hard at work. The next portion of the day was dirty, fun, and, by God's grace, joyful (you never really know how teenagers will react when you say, "alright guys, let's go spend the day hauling dirt!").
It was when we were leaving that the unexpected happened. At around 2pm, we left to bring our youngest son to Youth Group (go figure ... he didn't want to spend two and half hours at the mall with a bunch of girls, so he said he would haul dirt "extra well" if he could just remain with us and get dropped off later). As soon we started driving away, I felt the car jerk violently to the right.
"Heather," I said, "can you check if the front-passenger tire is okay? The car is acting weird."
She quickly stuck her head out the window and then almost just as quickly got back into her seat. In a plain voice, with maybe a slight sigh under her breath, she turned to me and said, "yep, it's flat ... like flat flat."
Down the street from Hope House is a four-level apartment building complex with stores and parking in front. I managed to slowly back our car into one of the spots while all of us, and likely everyone on the street, could hear the screeching sound of the tire rim on the uneven pavement. I opened the door, walked to the other side of the vehicle, and saw a sad looking tire desperately clinging onto its rim.
"Don't worry," I said, "we'll get this changed super fast and make it to Youth Group on time." I opened the rear hatch and got to work lowering the spare from underneath the car. We drive a Toyota Innova which, for those who are unaware, has a spare tire that must be lowered from beneath the car by turning a knob/bolt through a feat of wizardry and mechanical gymnastics. A small whole in the rear bumper provides access to a knob/bolt that you can turn, but only if you ask it nicely, and only with supernatural help.
I manage to find the bolt with the hand crank of the manual car jack and began to slowly lower the tire. Heather, in the meantime, walked to the front gate of Hope House where the guard and several teenage boys were wondering what was going on. She tells them that we have a flat tire, and as soon as I got the spare tire on the ground, I looked up to see five teenage boys rushing to help.
This is where our story of misfortune turns into one of opportunity with a touch of silliness. By this time, our guard from Hope House had also come to see if he could lend a hand while a number of by-standers had grouped together a few feet away. It seemed their purpose was to watch and judge our tire changing performance (in my mind, I imagined them holding score cards behind their backs, ready to raise a "7" or perhaps even a "9" depending on how closely our tire changing resembled that of a NASCAR pit crew).
Heather threw me a quick glance as the teenagers huddled around, as if to say, "hey, this would be a great opportunity to show the boys how to change a tire." Admittedly, I didn't get it at first, but after three or four glances I finally understood. I asked the first teen who arrived, Jerald, if he had ever changed a tire before. He said, "no I haven't ... can I give it a try?" I happily handed him the wrench and told him to give it a go.
He leaned in for the first bolt and it wouldn't budge. Mind you, Jerald is a strong kid, but try as he might the bolt refused to move. With signature over-confidence, I said, "don't worry Jerald, let me show you a trick. Sometimes you just have to use your foot and your body weight." With a smile, my foot came down on the wrench, but still it wouldn't budge. I tried a swift stomp, but still nothing. Subtly, I decided to try my body weight on the wrench, and still it wouldn't go.
"Hang on, Uncle Roberto, let me try again" said Jerald as now he and a couple of other boys tried turning the wrench. By this time, the group of by-standers had grown even larger and I could hear their conversation repeat in-time with every new arrival.
In Bisaya, each new-comer would ask, "guys, what's going on?"
"Bolt's stuck," a veteran looky-loo would say, resulting in nods and sounds of agreement from the rest of the crowd.
On and on it went. "Hey guys, what's going on here?"
"Bolt's stuck."
"Oh ... " the new-comer would always respond with a mix of concern, sympathy, and relief that it wasn't them.
After several tries, the boys got the first bolt loose. Hooray! Then came the second bolt, and this one was even tougher. At this point, some other teens, along with Uncle Dokoy, had arrived at Hope House from the Shelter in another vehicle, ready to take some of the college kids to a separate activity. I can only imagine what his thought must have been as he rolled up. Taking over for the boys, our guard was fully standing on the wrench, bouncing up and down while carefully maintaining his balance, and still the bolt wouldn't budge.
Uncle Dokoy quickly lent his expertise, battling with the immovable bolts. Before we knew it, he was also standing on the wrench, bouncing up and down to loosen bolt #2. I saw the wrench begin to bend and warp in a way I didn't think was possible ... the head firmly in place as if it had become one with the bolt while the arm slowly curled into an unnatural arc. Uncle Dokoy, the guard, the teens (one of the girls had joined us too), and I found ourselves taking turns. Like a battle where each group took turns against the enemy to give the other group time to rest, we worked the bolts one at a time. Pretty soon, bolts #2 and #3 were off, but #4 turned out to be harder than the last two combined.
By this time, the wrench we were using looked more like an art piece than a useable tool, but fortunately Uncle Dokoy had another toolset in his vehicle. He went to work on the last two bolts with a more robust wrench while the guard went back to the construction site to find a pipe that could be fashioned into an extra long handle.
A collective cry of victory rushed over everyone as Uncle Dokoy liberated the last two bolts. We thought we were home free, as did our audience, but then we found the tire had also fused itself onto the rest of the vehicle. A couple more minutes of battling freed the tire, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the spare was fixed in its place. As the teens and I cleaned up, the crowd disbursed, and a sense of pride, satisfaction, and accomplishment washed over everyone involved. The battle of the tire was over, and the kids got to change their first tire.
The rest of the day continued as planned. After Youth Group, we had dinner and then took a stroll by the water at a nearby boardwalk called Il Corso to recount the events of the day. "I wonder what tomorrow will hold," we all asked ourselves.
No two days are the same, but I am thankful that God (oftentimes through my wife) helps me to view setbacks as opportunities with a touch of humor and silliness to find joy in what would otherwise be a chore.
PRAYER REQUEST:
The following Saturday (one week after "The Battle of the Tire"), one of our residents, Danilo, was in the hospital. He was brought to the ER the night before because he was battling dengue fever and steadily worsening. He was weak, in pain, and we were concerned about his platelet levels. By Saturday, his platelet count was 51, but by Sunday night it had dipped to 15 and his nose began to bleed! All weekend we were trying to source platelets and medicine, and many folks around the world were praying with us for Danilo. By the grace of God, we found platelets at around 11pm on Sunday, and as of today his platelet count is backup to 59. Please continue to pray for Danilo; that he would recover swiftly and completely. Once his platelet count is steadily above 100, he will be able to return home and continue resting in his room.
UPDATE ON DANILO: Just this evening he was allowed to return home to CSC. Praise be to God, and thank you for all of your prayers!
This blog includes updates on CSC's Building Project. Haven't heard that the Children's Shelter of Cebu is building a new structure? No problem. Just:
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