The Feeling I couldn't Shake

Crashes, and other forms of guidance

Late June 2004. I’m in the final months after nearly nine years in Tanzania, wrapping up work at Namuai Farm in West Kilimanjaro. Starting to make plans for the trip home.

Except I wasn’t planning to go straight home.

To my way of thinking I had a once-in-a-lifetime window. Months of open road through Europe, visiting friends I’d made since arriving in Tanzania in early 1996 who’d scattered back to the Netherlands, Germany, and the UK. And Ireland especially, because I’d only ever met one of my relatives there on my Dad’s side of the family. The rest of them were still strangers to me. This was the opportunity to fix that. Plus I could base out of South London where I had an uncle, on my mothers side, who’d been living just down the road from Wimbledon for over thirty years.

It made total sense. It would probably be the only time in my life everything would align like this. No obligations to fulfill until my theological classes started in Auckland in February 2005.

Then, something else started.

I can’t fully explain it but over the next couple of weeks I had this growing, persistent sense that Dad was in serious trouble. He was in pain and needed me. No dramatic vision or audible voice. Just a knowing. Not clanging like a bell but still insistent, like a heavy hand on my shoulder that refused to lift.

Of course I checked in with my parents back in New Zealand and Dad was perfectly fine. Nothing wrong with him. He had employed a South African immigrant who was new to dairy farming but otherwise capable so Dad didn’t need help on the farm. There was zero logical reason to feel what I did.

But I couldn’t shake it.

I wrestled it hard. Europe, the UK, and Ireland was right there for the seeing and fun adventures with friends on their home turf. All those people and places probably never available all at once like this again. To cut the trip short, or even not go there, felt like throwing an awesome opportunity away for no good reason.

And yet.

Eventually I started looking for a compromise. Fly home earlier but still do some of Europe first? Maybe arrive for Dad’s birthday in early October, surprise him, figure out what the heck I would do over the New Zealand summer after that? I called to tell Mum my new plans but said not to tell Dad. Let my arrival be his surprise birthday present.

That felt a little better but the underlying feeling just wouldn’t depart and the uneasiness soon came back with a vengeance.

In mid-July I came across the X10 Seminar, being held in Coolum, Australia at the end of August. Perry Marshall was speaking. I’d watched the whole Google Cash thing unfold from a distance in Tanzania, knew that online business was something I wanted, and might even need, to understand for the future, so felt strongly that it was worth both the hassle and price of attendance.

I asked my boss if I could bring my final leaving date forward by a full month. He agreed, as long as I got everything on Namuai sorted to hand over properly by the time I left.

On Saturday morning 31st of July I bought the X10 ticket then peeled out of the driveway in the Land Cruiser to find a travel agent in Arusha 90 minutes drive away. Bought the flights to Australia and eventually Auckland, leaving out of Kilimanjaro International on the 27th August and touching down at Hamilton airport at 12am September 1st after a few days in Coolum attending X10.

The very next morning, August 1st, an email from my sister landed in my inbox.

Dad had fallen off his farm bike a few hours earlier. Shattered the top of his leg bone inside his knee joint which had quickly swollen to the size of a soccer ball so they couldn’t operate for two weeks. Right at the start of the busiest season on the farm. With a brand new worker who had precious little experience dairy farming.

I read it twice.

Now it all made sense. The knowing. The restlessness. My inability to settle on Europe no matter how sensible it looked to me on paper. God had known about that farm bike accident since before I’d even started thinking about coming home. He’d been quietly moving me into position for a good while.

My family in New Zealand were relieved to learn from my reply that I already had flights booked.

They managed to get through the intervening month with help from relatives and friends who really stepped up but who couldn’t maintain it for longer due to their own normal ongoing responsibilities. I slotted straight back into the manager’s role I’d left nine years earlier. Not work I’d have chosen to return to for any other reason. But being able to pull my parents through a genuinely rough season? That was more than ok and I was thankful not to have been swanning around Europe during such a season.

Dad was back on his feet way faster than the experts had predicted but it was nearly February by then. Right on cue with my having to attend my classes in Auckland (the wonderful way God worked out the how and where of my accommodation in South Auckland is a tale to be told in a future post).

I tell this story not because I handled it particularly well. No, I argued with the compelling feeling for weeks, before I acted on it. But it’s worth saying plainly: God sees what’s coming long before we do and prepares His solutions in advance. He’ll move you into position quietly, and usually without explaining Himself, if you’re willing to hold your plans loosely enough to be willing to adapt them.

Make your plans. Just don’t grip them so hard you can’t hear Him when He wants to direct your steps more exactly.

God is good.