“The LORD is good; for His mercy endureth for ever.” Jeremiah 33:11
In the month of June, I travelled down to Georgia, USA to pick up my daughter’s possessions, which she has stored there prior to her return to Canada. She was unable to bring them when she returned and she had stored them in the church basement in Marietta, Georgia. The church members graciously permitted her to store them there temporarily.
I made a wonderful experience of the Lord’s care and concern on my way home and shared it with several people, who encouraged me to share the experience in print. I am always amazed at how the Lord cares for us in all areas of our lives. Not just in the missionary work we are doing; not just to supply our daily needs; but in every way that is distressing to us—He is there. Even when we neglect to do an appointed duty, or fail in some respect, He does not leave us nor forsake us.
I had attempted to make the journey in the month of April, but the Lord had me abort the trip part way down. After I had travelled five hours, the Lord told me to return home in various ways. As with Gideon, the first sign was not enough. It took four signs from the Lord, before I listened.
Then, in June, when I had the next opportunity (as I had a few days off from work), I decided to go again to pick up my daughter’s possessions. I was thinking and praying about it a few days before I was to go, wondering if it was the right time. At that time the Lord gave me the Bible verse, “Behold, now is the accepted time.” 2 Corinthians 6:2. So I went, knowing that the Lord would be with me and no trouble would come my way.
On my initial trip, I had my daughter was with me, but on my second trip, I went alone. I left bright and early in the morning with a happy heart to make the 14-hour drive to Cedartown, Georgia. I knew the Lord was with me so it would be a pleasant journey. However, half way to my destination I realized that I had neglected to have the correct paperwork with me to bring Sharon’s possessions across an international border. That was the reason I had her on my first attempt. I was told by the customs officials at the Canadian border previously that I cannot bring her possessions across unless she is with me or I have a form filled out and signed by her stating that, “unaccompanied goods” were being transported to Canada, that belonged to her because she moved back. On the form she had to indicate who was bringing them, and to itemize the goods.
Oh dear, now what? Shall I turn back? I thought about it and prayed for some time. No, I would go by faith, the Lord told me that this was the accepted time. Perhaps the Lord will still bless me despite my oversight. I dismissed the thought and continued to enjoy the drive.
When I collected her belongings I realized I would have to downsize. I would like to put everything of hers I was bringing back into the back trunk of my car, and my little suitcase and a couple of small items in the car only. Hopefully the customs official does not ask too many questions. Out of sight, out of mind is what I was hoping for. I packed the car carefully and left for home early Sunday morning. The back trunk of my car was as full as it possibly could be.
My thoughts started to trouble me half way to Canada. What will they say at the border? Will they let me across? What if they search the car? Will they charge me duty? It is really up to the individual border official as to what they decide. Will they have mercy on me? Or will they be difficult? On the way down to the USA the border official was unpleasant and he searched my car. I am thankful he did not open the large suitcase—that was completely empty —as I planned to fill it with Sharon’s clothing. That would have looked suspicious. But nonetheless he searched the car. My car has been searched on occasion as I cross the border and it has never been an issue in the past because I had nothing to hide. This time I did not want them to search. What would I tell them? Would I tell them it was partially my possessions that I had given to Sharon that she had abandoned and did not really want any more, but I did want them so I had gone to retrieve them? That is half truth. . . . but with the intent to deceive; so I was troubled. Would they confiscate the possessions? Would they make me pay duty? Would they turn me away? I had memorized the address of Brother Chester Cosby who lives in Detroit, right at the border of Canada, in the event that I would have to turn around and leave her possessions there and bring her with me another day to cross the border with them. I did not really want to do that as Chester lived four hours from my home.
What should I do? What should I do? My thoughts troubled me and so I prayed. I thought about all the times that I had crossed before. They always ask me, how long I was gone, and what is the value of the goods I am bringing back. Sometimes, those are the only two questions I get asked and then they let me in without further questioning. Those are good crossings. Many times though, they add a few more questions about the nature of the goods I am bringing back, and other questions. I did not want to be asked that question and be put in a position where I was prone to tell a half truth—a lie. I did not trust myself to be fully truthful—the temptation was great to tell a half truth.
I then stopped at a rest area an hour from the border and went into the washroom stall and knelt down to pray. I told the Lord my dilemma and asked that when I cross the border that they only ask me those two questions and no more. Just those two—how long I was gone and the value of the goods I am bringing back (I was within the legal limit for the time I had been out of the country for the value). And please keep me from temptation. As I drove I still prayed and thought, and prayed and thought.
I came to the border and filled up with gas at the duty-free shop. I went once more to the washroom and knelt in the stall—“I am now at the border, Lord; and I am asking you again to please have the border guard ask me only those two questions and no more.” I then went through the toll booth and started driving over the bridge. Then I thought, there will be at least ten border booths I can drive through, which one should I go through? I don’t know. How can I choose? I want to go to the right one. There was a white van about 200 metres ahead of me, and no cars in between. I prayed and asked the Lord to lead that van to the booth You want me to go to. I will follow that van. So I did. It was not the shortest line, but it was the line the Lord wanted me to go to. When I came up to the booth I tried to remain calm. Continuing to pray in my mind, I handed the young man my passport. There was another man in the booth and the young man, rather than looking at me, was looking at the other man with a smile on his face as though they had just told a joke or something—that kind of a smile. He scanned my passport in his scanner and handed it back and said, “you are free to go.” I was in shock for a few seconds. I took my passport and said thank you . . . and tentatively drove off. What? No questions? Not even one? That has never happened to me and I have crossed that border at least 50 times in my lifetime. I was in disbelief. I asked the Lord for two questions, and He did more than I could think or ask—no questions. I was so relieved, thankful and grateful to the Lord. I was not doing anything illegal, but just neglected to do the necessary paperwork. I praise the Lord for Him guiding me through my experiences.
“Now unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.” Ephesians 3:20
We are dependent on the mercy of the Lord every day. Daily, hourly, He is by our side, wanting to direct our paths. “And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it.” Isaiah 30:21. Oh that we would trust Him more and turn to Him in our difficulties, rather than trying to wade through the trials of our life alone. Then will our peace be as a river (Isaiah 48:18) regardless of what circumstances we face in life. Amen.
Wendy Eaton