“Have you ever given an injection before?” Mrs. George’s question caught me off guard. The closest thing I’d ever done was inject a chicken leg in preparation for practicing stitches during AFM training! “Would you be willing to learn?” she asked.

“Sure,” I replied, nervous excitement building inside me. I had been hoping for the opportunity to do some real medical work, and here was my chance! A patient down in the lowlands needed insulin injections morning and evening, and Minan (Mrs. George) wanted me to take care of her until she was ready to go back into the mountains.

Over breakfast later that morning, Kuya Napthali said, “So, Minan said she wants me to teach you to drive the motorcycle.” I gulped, my eyes growing wide with fear. Mrs. George hadn’t told me that part of the bargain! Kuya took me to the farm nearby to practice. As I drove up and down the driveway and around the field, my confidence grew.

“I need to go talk to some people for a minute,” Kuya said after a while. “You can keep practicing, and if you want, you can go outside the gate.”

I soon got bored of driving up and down the driveway, and I decided I was ready to venture outside the gate onto the rough, gravelly road. Everything went fine at first. I got past the rough spots without a problem. At the corner, I turned around to go back. That’s when it happened. I don’t know how exactly, but somehow I lost my balance and headed straight into a muddy ditch! Up to my knees in mud, I tried to push the bike–still running–out onto the road, but to no avail.

“Tabangi! Help!” I hollered. Finally a neighbor man nearby came to my rescue. Minutes later, back on the road with no injuries or damage to the bike, I headed back to the farm, thanking God for keeping me safe.

The next day, after another brief training session with Kuya, he and the other student missionaries headed back into the mountains. Ready or not, I would have to deliver the insulin by myself on the motorbike morning and evening for the next seven days.

That night on my drive to my patient’s house, the sky let loose, pouring bucketfuls of rain. I pulled over and waited for a break in the rain before continuing on, and all was well. But the rain continued all night, and when I ventured out the next morning, the road to the farm had become a river.

Oh, I wish Kuya were here, I whimpered inwardly. I feel so much more confident when he’s sitting behind me, ready to grab the handlebars in case of an emergency.

Then a still, small Voice reminded me, I’m here. I will sit behind you and help you drive, if you ask Me.

Oh, Father, forgive me for forgetting You! Please sit behind me and help me drive. I can’t drive through this muddy, rocky river of a road. Please drive for me.

Immediately I felt a sense of peace flow through me. My tense muscles relaxed, and I seemed to be driving more smoothly. God had answered my prayer. I grinned as I continued down the road, imagining God Himself sitting behind me, just like Kuya, grabbing the handlebars and helping me steer.

Now I make it a habit to pray every time I use the motorbike, asking God to help me drive. And He always does.

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