Washin'

"Here is your timer."
"Thank you."
"And, here is your pump."
"Why, thank you."

I took the washing machine parts from Bryan's hand and placed them on the narrow hallway railing.  It's not every day I get excited about washing machine parts but this was certainly an exception.

Ever since we moved into the missions house in Luganville, Vanuatu, we have been without our own washing machine.  The Maytag Performa top loading washer would fill with water and agitate the items to be washed but would neither drain nor spin—two functions which make a washing machine a convenience.  I had a local guy over who works on these kinds of things and he gave me a solution which didn't make much sense to me at the time.  I called an Aussie repairman in Port Vila who advised that it might be either the timer or the pump, but most likely the timer.

I e-mailed our boss, Bryan—who's washer and house we are using—and asked him if he could purchase and bring over these parts from the States when he visited.

Well, I installed said parts and selected the cycle I wanted.  Water began to fill the tub.  I could hear the timer ticking away as it moved closer to the spin cycle.  A click.  Nothing.  No more ticking, clicking, whirring, or any other sort of  "ing".  Bummer.  I looked over at the wall and realized an error I had made.  Here in Vanuatu each electrical outlet has an individual switche that must be turned on to allow power to flow freely.  I giggled.  "Sweet," I thought, "that's easy to fix."  I flipped the switch down and could now see the red dot indicating the "on" position.  Nothing.  Razzin' Frazzin', no good....calm.   Peace and caaaaaalm.

Attempting to keep perspective I reminded myself that we still had a washing machine thanks to an incredible set of missionaries—the Widups.   From bug bombs to Cap'n Crunch they have everything.  Every time they come home from furlough in the U.S., they pack a shipping container full of goodies.

Today, I went downstairs to re-connect all the lines to our borrowed unit.  Reaching towards a pair of rusty slip-joint pliers, I stopped.
"Lord Jesus,  if there is any way you can fix this washer, would you, please?"

I flipped the outlet on and tried again.  Nothing.  An article on the internet stated that from time to time items can get caught between the tub and basket.  I lifted the lid to see about removing the tub.  I was prompted by the Holy Spirit to look more closely at the lid's safety switch.  I thought this was a good idea since I did not want to have the tub suddenly start whirring around, grab ahold of my chest hair—which I can practically braid right now due to me not bringing my Wahl clippers— and fling me against one of the concrete walls of the laundry room.  In an attempt to figure out how to ensure the safety switch was indeed engaged I saw that it was completely inoperative.  Now, understand, I do not consider myself very good at troubleshooting. As an aircraft mechanic I really despised when a broken thing-a-ma-jig would be dropped on my tool box with the instruction to, "fix it".   It's that whole concrete orders thing again (see entry about Daniel's birth).  I like things like, "remove these screws," or, "attach this antenna."  To try and figure out where an item is malfunctioning gives me the cold sweats.

I decided to remove the incoming and outgoing wire from the switch and attempt to test the system by simply connecting the wires.  I selected the spin cycle and grabbed one wire in each hand.  Holding my breath and leaning back a bit, I brought the exposed ends of the wires together.  Instantly the washer lurched to life!  The whirling dervish increased in speed and intensity—then I stopped dancing to make sure the washer wasn't on fire.

Everything checked out.

I'm telling you, the Holy Spirit was leading me step by step.  My prayer was answered in such a cool way that not only builds my faith but was very relational.  No handwriting on the wall or parting of the sea.  Just a small still voice leading me step by step—as a friend.

Our God is a personal God who loves his people and cares about them.  I'm so grateful that He not only cares about the eternal destiny of our souls but the seemingly mundane everyday things that concern us daily.