Fueled by Faith

The parking lot had just one remaining spot before reaching full capacity, and everyone was waiting for a delivery truck to bring fuel. Calhoun pulled in and turned off the engine. Kameron, his girlfriend, sat impatiently in the passenger seat for hours, fussing about the inconvenience. Calhoun leaned over the center console, asking for a kiss, only to find her resistance heightened their anxiety. Kameron watched an older woman sitting in her automobile, worried about the effects of the intense Mississippi heat. She told Calhoun to grab a bottle of water from their cooler and walk it over to the woman sweating profusely. He did as Kameron asked. 

Calhoun asked, “Miss, would you like a bottle of cold water? My girlfriend wants you to have it.” 

The woman grabbed the bottle, removed the cap, and started drinking it without even a thank-you. Calhoun headed back to the Jeep.

Two men approached him aggressively upon seeing a license plate reading Ohio. Humidity blurred the view from the pavement, heat rose intensely, and the smell of singed rubber from Calhoun's sneakers stung his nostrils.

The first man had stubble for a beard, wore a jean jacket, and said, “Y’all Yankees must think the South is a playground for showing off. Y'all come down here to steal our resources all the time.”

Calhoun attempted to reply, but the other man interrupted him. He argued, “How in the Hell are our townspeople supposed to get from point A to point B if we allow outsiders to come take our gasoline?”

Calhoun immediately felt saddened by the men's unfriendly attitude. Usually, in the South, hospitality, good food, and good times. He said, “I need gas, so we have no other choice but to hang around.”

The man in the jean jacket said, “Now, if you drive further south, about a mile and a half down the road, you’ll find a gas station with plenty of fuel.”

The other man said with a slight smile, “Shucks, those good old boys down there won’t fuss over your Yankee blood or your need for gasoline.”

Calhoun climbed in the Jeep, and Kameron, overhearing the conversation, asked him what he wanted to do about the threats the men made. Calhoun started the engine, backed out, and drove onto the road. Kameron complained, fearing they would soon have to walk, and abandoning her sister’s Jeep out in the backwoods of Mississippi. They drove for miles without seeing a house, a store, or a gas station. The men misled them. 

Just as Calhoun’s voice crackled with worry, Kameron slugged him on the shoulder. She yelled for him to turn around. He did, on the dirt road, heading back to what Kameron described as a shack with a single gas pump. After Calhoun drove up to the pump, a much older black man stood waiting to help out. The man wore a pair of bib overalls with a plaid shirt, and his white hair covered his scalp with very little balding. 

Terrence Little greeted them with, “Howdy, folks! Y’all are a long way from home. I’ve been waiting all day to help y’all. I don’t get many visitors around here. I’ve got plenty of gasoline for you, lovely folks. I’m Terrence Little, the owner of this here property, now that the Hollander family has all passed on.”

Calhoun engaged in small talk while Terrence filled the tank for $2.50 a gallon, whereas other stations charged more than $10.00, even $20.00, for just one or two gallons. Some carjackings and other crimes made fuel shortages frightening for travelers. Calhoun explained the facts, and Terrence’s responses felt strangely eerie. 

Terrence said, “I don’t want y’all to worry, Calhoun. I’ll have you in Baton Rouge in no time, and your momma will feel safe soon enough. I hope, when y’all make your journey back through this here area, you can stop and introduce me to your lovely mother.”

Calhoun agreed to the imposition despite uncertainty about his travels. He didn't know what might happen once Kameron and he left that man’s kindness behind. A hurricane caused chaos across America, and they were simply trying to move his mother North.

The truth about this actual chapter in our narrative nonfiction book is a real blessing. I learned about God’s intervening power that day. Please read, share, and let’s make God important for the work that He does. Angels exist when God knows our consciousness grows. When we seek Him most. This encounter actually happened to me, so I am sharing proof of my experiences to urge everyone to look for signs and wonders.

I drove slowly not to miss his lane. The shack, Terrence Little, and the pump were gone.

The End