Tell you a little story I will, and then I have an admission to make. I’ve been struggling a bit this week, and it reminded me of the time, one of many, when I ran out of gas.
My wife and I were driving back to the Bay Area from Fresno. Just my girlfriend back then, I’d taken her to meet some family.
She drove us in her fancy Cadillac Seville on the way down, so being a gentleman, I offered to drive on the way back. She accepted, handed me the keys, and off we went.
Here’s where we learned something important about ourselves. Since she wasn’t driving, my wife didn’t bother to tell me we were low on gas. She figured I’d check it myself. Since it wasn’t my car, I didn’t bother checking the gas gauge, since I figured she would have told me.
Both of us figured very, very wrong.
How Could This Happen?
We ran out of gas 19 miles outside of Los Banos on a lonely stretch of Highway 152. I opened the trunk and got out the gas can. And right then, standing there in cotton sweatpants and cotton sweater, about to start the long, lonely walk into town for gas, the heavens opened up and started pouring.
Screwed, I was.
Out Of Gas
Then the craziest thing happened. A car pulled over. Without any signal from me, without any sign waving or hitchhiking. No distress signal on my part, as I had just a moment earlier realized the totality of my distress.
A guy rolled down his window and asked if I needed help. Then he did something really crazy. He cheerfully drove me 19 miles into town for gas, then 19 miles back to my car. Cheerfully!
Unbelievable. Saved. Out of nowhere, at the exact right moment. When I’d completely run out of gas, an angel appeared and bailed me out. Incredible.
He Bailed Me Out Back Then
And he did it again just now. Because what I was going to admit to you was that I was completely out of gas this week. I’d allowed myself to get worn down, then I got sick. I’ve spent the last two days in bed feeling like crap. Worse, I’d run out of ideas and had used up my last emergency blog post.
I was completely out of gas.
Unlike you non-Manic, disciplined planning types, I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants the last few weeks. I’ve been meaning to sit down and plan out my writing for the next six months. But I just hadn’t gotten around to it.
So this week I ended up depleted, drained, totally on empty. Feeling bad about myself and looking for help.
Came it did, in a very strange form. And with an odd, Yoda-like syntax. Help showed up today like that angel on Highway 152.
That guy stopped for me on Highway 152 because he saw me outside the car with a gas can in my hand. He knew I wasn’t a bum or a threat because he saw me taking action to help myself. He helped me because he could see I deserved it.
Help comes to us when we deserve it. When we work to help ourselves. Help came to me back then because I got up off my seat, and got ready to make that 19-mile trudge.
Help came today when I accepted my situation and got to work. When I was completely out of gas but kept going anyway.
Help came to me, it did.