Unrattled

I love to drive.  I love the freedom that comes with being behind the wheel.  In control of where you go and how you get there.  Not driving has been a huge sacrifice for me in Haiti.  I don't have a car, and rely on the availability of someone to take me wherever I need to go.  And every once in a great while, the car I can drive is available.  And I get to drive it.  Like on Sunday. 
I drove to church.  All by myself.  I loved it.  I met two Canadians on the way home who live at the hotel right by the orphanage.  They are not retired, but re-fired to do God's work, and have lived in 25 countries in 25 years.  Not really a random meeting.  They came to visit yesterday.  I prayed for fellowship.  God answered.
Today I wanted to run an errand to prevent someone else from doing it later.  Trying to save energy and time.  It was almost time to pick up Pierre's girls from school.  So Franckis asked if I would do it.  I don't know my way there well enough, so he came along.  In the passenger seat. 
I drove to the store, with only one warning from him to "pay attention to the people".  I was, they just walked really close to the moving car.
After the store, I explained that I needed help knowing where to go.  That if I were by myself, I would just figure it out, but since he was there and knew the answers, I needed him to give them to me.
While waiting at the girls' school for them to come out, a huge cement truck pulled up behind me and began blasting his very loud horn.  It took several blasts for me to realize that he was blasting at me.  I calmly started the car and began to move, realizing that I had held up a line of cars.  But it wasn't my fault that someone was blocking the other direction, and so they couldn't pass me on the other side.  Oh the joy of learning new things.
When we arrived back at the orphanage, I asked if he was still alive.  He said yes.  I asked if he would do that again with me.  His response: "Maybe someday..."