Welcome to our series You're Not Alone, in which Allen Sonter, for many years a missionary educator in the islands of the South Pacific, tell stories that help us to know that God is always watching over us wherever we are.
This episode is entitled did you phone up God this morning? The young airline counter attendant studied me with a look of frustration and perplexity, then burst out, how do you know? Did you phone up God this morning? Well, I surely had spoken to God in prayer that morning, so I replied, yes, I did. And what did he say? He shot back.
He said, the plane will be going and we'll be going on it. I was impressed to answer what had led up to this unusual exchange between the counter attandant and me. Well, it all started about 05:00 that morning in Apia, capital of Western Samoa.
Apia is about midway along the northern side of Upolu, one of the two main islands of Western Samoa. The other main island is Savai, lying to the northwest of Upolu. Bruce Myers, education director for the 7th Day Adventist Church in Samoa, and I, who was visiting from New Zealand, were scheduled to travel from Appia to Savai on that day to visit a mission school on the eastern end of the island.
It was still dark and it was windy and raining hard as we boarded a taxi in Apia and headed for the airport, almost 50 km along the northern coast in the general direction of Savai. It was a rather unpromising looking day and I had asked God to make it possible for us to get to Savai if that was his plan for us that day. A few kilometres along the road, the engine of the taxon fluttered to a stop, no doubt suffering from water in the fuel.
After getting soaked in his unsuccessful attempt to restart the motor, the driver eventually climbed back into his seat and sat staring gloomily into the boisterous, rainy darkness outside. We didn't know what time our planes, this havai would leave, but at our present rate of travel we'd miss it no matter when it decided to go. With a prayer to God for help, we suggested to the driver that we might be able to hail a passing car and continue to the airport while he waited for his engine to dry out.
Before long, another taxi came by and by waving and shouting, we managed to get the driver to stop and let us squeeze in with the passenger he already had, and so we eventually arrived at the airport soon after 06:00. There was much activity around the terminal as a Polynesian Airlines Seven three seven was preparing for takeoff to New Zealand, but we went to the counter and asked for a ticket to Savayi. I should explain that the flight between the Faliolo airport on Apollo and the airport on Savai took only about five minutes and the flight was not scheduled for set times.
The system was that the small plane, which carried about nine or ten passengers, shuttled back and forth between the two airports as the demand required. When I asked the attendant for a ticket, he said, the plaintiffs of I is not going today because of the weather in any way. There's a long waiting list, so even if it did come, you wouldn't be able to get on it.
He showed me a full SCAP sheet almost full of names of ticket holders waiting to travel and said that under the circumstances he could not sell us tickets, despite the unlikely prospect of us being able to travel. Something impressed me to hold out the money and look the attendant in the eye. I want you to sell us tickets because the plane is going today and we're going on it.
He looked at me uncertainly and slowly reached out his hand and took the money. I gave him our names and watched as he wrote out the tickets and added our names at the bottom of the list in front of him. After thanking him, I put the tickets in my pocket and turned away to await further developments.
After a few minutes, the flight for New Zealand took off, and gradually the crowd who had come to see their friends off drifted away until the terminal was almost deserted. By now it was about 06:30, and although the wind had ceased, rain was still falling steadily. I went back to the counter and asked the attendant, do you know yet when the plane to survive is going? The young man looked at me as though you might look at a naughty child and said, I told you the plane's not going today.
Oh, yes, it is, I replied. We'll wait just a little longer. It was then that his frustration with me boiled over.
In the exchange I recounted at the introduction to our story. After I told him that God had said the plane was going and we were going on it, he just shook his head and turned away to busy himself with something else. I don't know why I said what I did.
It was as if the words were put in my mouth. After we had waited a further half hour or so, the rain had almost ceased and I spoke to Bruce. You know, I used to live on Savayi some years ago.
I know that the wharf from which the boat sailed to Savayu is just down the road a little way. Perhaps we should go down to the wharf and see if there's a boat leaving soon. I believe that we should leave God free to answer our prayers in any way he wishes.
Perhaps I had been a bit too presumptuous in thinking the plane was definitely the way we were going to travel to Savai. We walked out to the main road and caught a bus headed for the wharf. A few minutes later we were walking along the causeway connecting the road to the wharf, which was built well out on the reef so the ships and boats could tie up in deep water.
Some inquiries made to people waiting around the wharf soon revealed that the shipping situation was even more uncertain than the plane. Yes, there might be a ship going to Savai that day, but it was still at the other island, and no one knew when it might come or if it came, whether there would be enough passengers to induce the captain to go back to Savai. After waiting perhaps an hour at the wharf, I said to Bruce, we need to go back to the airport.
So we started walking back along the causeway toward the road. Just then I saw a bus approaching, travelling along the road in the direction of the airport. It was still some distance from the point where the causeway met the road.
I said to Bruce, there's a bus. Let's hurry and catch it. We must be on that bus.
Bruce must have been a bit discouraged by all the uncertainty. There's no hurry. Take it easy.
We can catch the next bus that comes along. There's plenty of time. Again I felt that strong impression no, we must catch this bus.
Let's run. We began to run along the causeway, and the driver saw us obviously hurrying to catch his bus. So when he reached the end of the causeway, he stopped and waited for us.
As the bus approached the airport, we looked across to the tarmac, and there was the small plane for Savai, already starting to load passengers. As soon as the bus came to a halt, we jumped off and raced down to the terminal. Bruce went straight around to where the plane was, but I went to the terminal counter.
Just as Bruce arrived at the plane, he heard the young counterattendant reading from his list, calling the passengers. After reading several names, to which there was no response, he called Santer and Myers. Bruce responded, Here we are.
That's it, then, announced the young man, the plane's full. Another hopeful passenger waiting there called out, But I want to go too. Sorry, replied the attendant, you're too late.
The plane is full. You'll have to wait till next flight. By this time I had found nobody at the counter, so was on my way out to the plane.
Bruce hurried up to me, quick, get on board. We're just in time. We were the last to be on.
That poor fellow over there missed out. We were both thankful that I had insisted on the counterattandant selling us our tickets earlier on. As we settled into our seats for the flight, I looked out onto the tarmac at the young man who had spoken to me with such frustration some time before.
I'm sure he remembered the unusual exchange between us, but his face showed nothing. I still wonder what he thought about his passengers who made phone calls to God in the morning. It's true, my friend.
Whoever or wherever you are right now, you're not alone. God might make known his presence in any number of ways, as our stories have shown. But he is with you when you ask Him to help.
You've been listening to our series You're Not Alone stories told by Allen Sonter that help us to know that God is always watching over us, wherever we are. If you have any comments or questions, send an email to
[email protected] or give us a call within Australia on zero two four nine seven, three three four five.
Six. May God bless you and remember you are not alone. You have been listening to a production of Three ABN Australia australia Radio.
