“What if we left at 8 ‘o clock and tried to be back by noon?”

The text came through as an alternate plan when my friend realized she’d double booked.

Today my parents are spending the day in Nairobi then dropping off the friends who have been with us the past week or so at the airport before returning here. Instead of going with them, I opted for a day of “normalcy” in the sense of a guest free home. On the agenda was retrieving my dogs from the kennel in Naivasha where they stayed the past few days of our galivanting family adventure.

Little did I know this morning, a routine drive was to turn into an unforgettable day.

Cass and I first went to Java House, a Malindi macchiato and breakfast sandwich on the mind. It’s “on the way” to the kennel- an extra 10-15 minutes past the hour drive to get there. We then walked from Java House to Chandarana (the grocery store) for a quick stop. Carts filled with 15kg bags of dog food and stocking stuffers, we loaded up the car and headed off to get the dogs.

A few minutes later we turned off the main road onto the dirt road and noticed a recent storm had washed away portions. Taking a right at the intersection, we avoided a hundred yard stretch that seemed a bit rough. When the roads came back together, we rejoined the main road, noting it was not quite what it was last time Cass had gone to this same place. I’d never been, so I trusted her directions and forged on in my land cruiser. In our first 50 yards we hit a very narrow road with a washed out roadbed. We veered left, almost onto the embankment to avoid the 4 ft deep gully and undercut edge of the road, then pressed on. Not 15 yards later, I straddled a hole that was about 2 feet wide, 2 feet long, AND 2 feet deep. Eyes only directly in front of me, neither of us noticed the complete wash out another 50 yards down. Impassable. No place to turn around. No backing up.

Panic creeped up as “Oh. Crap.” came out of both of our mouths almost simultaneously. We got out. We surveyed.

There was no path forward, and not much visibility back. The most logical plan was navigating backwards about 10 yards, OVER the 2x2x2 gouge, then pulling UP onto the embankment to the left, perhaps turning around in the plateau of grazing land, and making our way to the unmarked “detour” we missed the first time.

Solid plan. Poor execution. While Cass attempted to direct me backward, I eased onto the gas, creeping slowly enough to hopefully avoid any major errors. Once I reached the “now pull forward and go up the embankment” section I was breathing a little easier, thinking the worst was passed. Going forward, I thought I needed to turn left. Cass said straight. Between the still-holding-on-nerves and the mixed messages, I wasn’t sure what to do until THUNK. My stomach dropped as my back wheel fell into the very 2x2x2 hole I’d so narrowly avoided twice already.

We got out and began to survey the damage. I noted that God had been good- nothing in the undercarriage was resting on a rock. No wheels were cocked at an odd angle. MAYBE my back bumper was resting on the ledge, but maybe it was just the perfect depth of a whole that the bumper was okay?

Cell phones out, we started making calls. There is no AAA in Kenya. Heck, there isn’t even 911. We are each others support system out here, and most of mine is at the coast in resorts and air bnb’s, or back in the states for the holiday break. Prayer chain working overload, and cell phones connecting, we both kept coming up empty.

“Try so-and-so?”

“Sorry, I’m in Nairobi…”

“I’ll put it out and see if anyone is in the Naivasha area…”

“Maybe so-and-so knows somebody?”

Between the two of us, Cass and I had almost called a dozen people when an unknown number came up on Cass’s cell.

“Hello?” She answered hesitantly.

“Yes, this is Cass…PLEASE!”

I heard relief flood her voice. When she hung up, we didn’t even have a name. Only a British sounding accent, and news that this mystery gentleman was on his way with a tow rope from a place less than 5 minutes down the road.

Truly a stranger- and yet a miracle in so many ways. The accent suggested he wasn’t Kenyan, which though a trivial detail, implied they likely had experience with large vehicles, and was a trusted contact from someone in our missionary community. That he lived less than 5 minutes away meant we didn’t have to wait an hour plus in the hot equator sun for someone to meander down the hill from Kijabe.

One of the employee’s from the kennel had walked the kilometer to come join us at Cass’s request, so we knew we were safe with a culture and language translator at our side, but the growing number of men collecting from the nearby village didn’t lessen the seriousness of the situation, or increase desire to be there any longer needed.

At his word, less than 10 minutes later a man in a green land cruiser (my same car just a few years newer) came ambling down the road. As he jumped out I introduced myself and asked, “Is your name Knight-in-Shining-Armor?”

“Mike.” He responded with a chuckle.

Mike-in-shining-armor came over and assessed the situation. He figured going up was the right call, and that if he couldn’t get my vehicle up there, he’d drive around and tow it in that same direction.

He pulled out a tire-iron of the right size and taught me how to turn the center lugnuts in my front tires to engage the 4-wheel drive. He showed me how to toggle the second gearshift I’ve never touched… put the normal gearshift in neutral, throw the second one into low, then put the standard back into low, push this button here and VIOLA. 75 million steps later and “The Beast” (my nickname for the car) was ready to engage full power.

I stepped back and closed my eyes. Cass turned on the camera. I opened my eyes. I prayed, Mike drove. Sure enough, he was able to drive it right out of its spot between the rock and a hard place-literally. We kept going forward over the grazing land, off the beaten path to the other side of the washed-out road. We shook hands and our Mike-in-shining-armor walked away, tow rope still unused.

I finally exhaled and we carried on the last kilometer to the dog kennel where my pups were boarding. While we waited for the gate to open, we sent message after message letting people know we were okay and all taken care of. I held my pooch as I let Cass drive us home, taking it easy on the car in case something was jostled.

Besides a busted plastic end piece, and a slightly bent bumper, The Beast seems completely unscathed. I’ll have my favorite mechanic spelled D-A-D look it over while he’s here, and maybe take it into the vehicle shop next week if they’ve got openings.

I’m sitting on my front porch, writing this to unwind from my adventure, two dogs flopped down around me. I’m thinking of all the ways God protected us today, in complete awe and wonder…

Thank you Lord that we didn’t fall into the 4 foot deep gully next to the road, where the water had undercut the road and made the sand unstable. My car would’ve rolled for sure and been a total loss.

Thank you Lord the men who appeared from the village around us simply stood and watched, for Patrick who navigated the cultural nuance of their ‘help’ while Cass and I called our cavalry.

Thank you Lord for Mike, a complete stranger who was willing to drop everything and come help two stranded women he’d never met.

Thank you Lord for a community of prayer warriors, who though couldn’t help physically themselves, prayed us to safety.

Thank you Lord for my dogs who I did get to pick up after all today.

Thank you Lord for Cassandra who has lived here much longer than I, and had both a level head and the knowledge of who else to call when our initial efforts were fruitless.

And finally, thank you Lord for community. Thank you for this place that rallies around you when you find yourself in a sticky situation. Thank you that Cass and I made it home safe, and that we’re able to tell the crazy story and share of your goodness with those around us.

Amen.