The Jug by Robin Densmore Fuson


Have you experienced a miracle? Do you believe God will do the miraculous? Read this true story. 

The four of us sang as the station wagon carried us through a hot summer day in southern California. 

Dad’s bass voice stilled and his shoulders tensed. Steam rose from the engine. Smooth as a well-polished table, he navigated the disabled vehicle onto the grassy shoulder out of harm’s way. Opening the hood, the cloud of hot mist shot into the air to mix with the humidity.

“What are we going to do?” Mom’s question brought my eyebrows together. I peered behind, then in front of us at the forever-long road, where the heat rose looking like wavy distorted glass. I saw nothing but grassland on each side of the highway.

Dad shook his head. “I’ll go for help.”

We were miles away from any town. Would he be able to make it?

“Pray girls.” Momma said as she got out of the car.

I knew what to do, after all, I was eight years old. My four-year-old sister followed suit as I bowed my head and prayed for the Lord to do something, somehow. I suspected Mom and Dad prayed with their eyes open.

Dad pointed. “There’s a house, I’ll go see if I can borrow water.” A small farmhouse stood five or six baseball diamonds away. I’d been to ball fields and watched games on television. My dad had been a major-leaguer. From this distance, the wood house looked like a miniature dollhouse.

“What will you put the water in?” Momma put her hands on her hips and looked back at the car.

Daddy shrugged.

About that time, on the other side of the highway, a loaded-down bus drew abreast. The painted white school bus filled with people and the cargo area on top maxed out was a sight I hadn’t seen before. A large tubular insulated jug vaulted off the top, bounded, and bounced down the medium. It had to be empty to jump like a crazed kangaroo. The bus kept going.

My strong six-foot-tall dad sprinted across the lanes to that bright orange container and picked it up. A grin split his face as he tore back across the pavement to leap over the fence and jogged through the tall grass to the far-off house.

We waited. Mom, with her hair plastered to her head, climbed in to get out of the burning sun. We cranked the windows down hoping for some relief. A broken car meant no air-conditioning. Sweat trickled down my back. My legs stuck to the vinyl seat. The air felt thick and smelled like dust. I couldn’t rest my head on my forearms out the window, to watch daddy, for fear of getting burned by the hot chrome.

Surprisingly, my sister and I didn’t argue or fight. We were quiet as cotton balls falling onto the floor.

Dad started back. Slow this time. That thing he carried must be around forty, or a thousand hundred pounds. I counted cars that passed—not one stopped to help us. That was okay because we had God on our side. He helped us a whole lot. Didn’t He kick that jug off the bus for us to use? Didn’t our car break down near the only house for miles? Didn’t God make my daddy strong to carry the heavy load?

Dad placed the container down and climbed over the barbed wire fence. He reached over, careful not to puncture himself, and lifted the huge thing to our side. The shirt he wore could be wrung out. He slowly poured the water into the radiator, sloshing a bit.

The bus that lost the jug pulled up right behind us. “Uh oh.” Would they be mad?

A guy smiled and waited for Daddy to finish emptying the water into our thirsty car.

“Thank you so much! Gracias.”

“Si, de nada.” The kind man twisted the lid back on, carried it to the bus, and climbed on top. We watched him tie it on the brackets with the other stuff.

Daddy folded his sweaty body back into the car and turned the key. The car roared to life and we headed to the nearest town to find a mechanic.

I started a song and we sang all the way there.

I’ll never forget that day. God made himself real to me and proved He can do miraculous things. From that time on, I’ve expected the Lord to do the impossible because that’s what He does. He’s never let me down.

“Fill the jars with water,” Jesus told them. So they filled them to the brim. Then He said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the headwaiter.” And they did (John 2:7-8 csb).  



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