We were on our way to the Mercy Ship in Cotonou, bringing two older gentlemen who needed cataract surgery. We left Natitingou at 4:30 a.m. to make it to our appointment at 2 p.m. It was so early that the roads were empty, even of animals.

After dropping off Linden and Justin in a village on the way, we continued on. About an hour and a half later, the truck began to shudder. I pulled over and, sure enough, we had a flat tire. Everyone got out of the truck. Thanks, Dad, for showing me how to change a flat. After determining that it was easier to do it myself than to try to explain it to people who had never done it before, I got it changed and we drove on.

Albertine standing beside the Mercy Ship Anastasis.

At 2 p.m., we rolled into Port de Paix where the ship was. We learned that our appointment was actually two hours later so we decided to wait. After an hour, they came and brought us in.

The Mercy Ships are hospital ships that work in different parts of the world doing free checkups and surgeries. The specific things they can do depend on the doctors present at the time. The Mercy Ship Anastasis is the ship that works in Africa. It will stay in a port for a number of months. People in need go to the ship. When the ship is in operation with full crew and personnel, there are 350-450 people on board, not including the patients.

God was so good to us on this trip. That first evening, we spent almost four hours on the ship. We had been wondering where we were going to eat. All of us were very hungry because we’d had only a little piece of bread the day before. I asked the appointment clerk if there was a place to get some water to drink. God used that little request, and we each ended up with a plate of food and some water. God also helped us get off the ship before it got too dark to find the house where we’d arranged to stay.

Sabi , Albertine, and M’po waiting for the eye appointments.

The next morning, the two men went in for surgery. We went to get them a few hours later. The doctors taught them and Albertine, who was going to be with them at the village, how to wash their eyes, how to protect them, and how to put in the eye drops. They also provided another meal for us. When we got back to our house, the two men with their bandaged eyes lay on the floor and sang praises to God.

The house we were staying in had no stove. God provided a lady across the street who was selling rice and fish. We lived on rice with hot sauce, fish, bread, and peanut butter for a week. “Do not worry about your life or what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear, . . . your heavenly father knows that you need them” (Matt 6:25, 32 NIV).

M’po and Sabi waiting for their checkup after the operation.

I needed to boil water to make saline solution for washing the men’s eyes. Since I couldn’t do it at that house, I decided to go to the guesthouse for missionaries where we usually stay and boil some water there. Just as I was finishing letting the water cool, a lady who was staying there struck up a conversation with me. She works for an organization in Ireland that prints and sends free literature to missionaries to hand out. She had been looking for missionary contacts and was leaving the next day. God is good. If I hadn’t gone there to boil water, I would never have met her.

When we went back to the ship for the post-operation exams, it took forever to get in. I was hoping that we could make it home that evening. I had decided that if we left there before noon we could still make it home. But the doctor decided he needed to go to lunch right before it was our turn so we sat for another hour. We had to stay one more night.

Thursday morning, a huge rainstorm was brewing. We left just as it started to pour. About an hour out of Cotonou, the windshield wipers started going slower and slower. In the middle of a very strong downpour, they stopped. Great! I quickly pulled over and tried to check the fuses without getting out of the truck—a difficult thing, let me tell you. Then I noticed that we had lost all electrical power in the truck. No air, blinkers, headlights, wipers, or horn (a most necessary item in Africa). I found that the wipers worked going down but didn’t have enough force to come back up. I scrounged around and found some string in my pack. I tied a string to the wiper on my side and Albertine and I practiced pulling the wiper up and letting it go. It worked! So off we went—slowly because the wipers didn’t move fast. About an hour or so later, they stopped moving altogether. We stopped again and attached the other end of the cord to the other side of the wipers to pull them up and down. The rain stopped not too long after that.

Albertine cleaning Sabi’s eye after the operation.

We got to Dassa and, thanks to my short memory, I turned the truck off while we ate. Bad move. It was dead when I tried to start it again. Not even a click. It’s a diesel so you can’t push-start it.

A man finally helped us jumpstart the truck, and we made a mad dash for home.

There were five hours of daylight left. We still had five hours of driving to do and no headlights. In that time, we still had to stop at the village to pick up Linden and Justin. When we got to the village, they were not there. We finally found them coming back from town. We threw everything on the truck and took off as fast as we could toward home. We made it just as the sun was going down. Thank you, God.

The moral of this story? You can’t push-start a diesel, always take your own jumper cables, carry string, and, most importantly, pray lots. And don’t forget that when things don’t go as you’ve planned, it might be God’s plan.

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