This is basically insurance that I'm told doesn't really do any good if you get into an accident, but will keep the police from taking your car during a roadblock.
Last week the "friendly" officers stopped me again, and it only took one serious Haitian with an M16 pointed at me to make me refocus my attention on getting this magic piece of paper.
After 3 visits, still no luck and we have to return tomorrow morning. 1st trip, no internet, couldn't check the records. 2nd trip, didn't have the original old assurance, just a copy. 3rd trip, sorry, the inspector went home 2 hours early for the day. Each trip on the moto in the city is laced with close-calls. I was about to flip, and I told Patchouko that it's better to just drive the car over a cliff and be done with it.
On the way home I cooled down and began my apology to the Lord. I was grateful to have a car, to have money in my pocket to pay for the silly assurance, to be with my friend, to have enough gas in the tank, and for both of us to even be alive after the terrible accidents we've both had.
Instead, we took his wrecked moto to a mechanic and waited by the roadside while they fiddled with the engine to get it running again. While we were sitting next to the well we began to talk about the accident, all of the money he's lost in bills and medicine, and this is what my friend said,
"I don't see the accident like most people see it. It wasn't such a bad thing to happen to me. From my perspective, it was God showing me just how much He loves me."
I was filled with curiosity. "How do you see it that way?"
"It could have been much worse. When I think about that wreck and see this moto, the little girl, my friend Kenol, or I could have died. It could have been so bad. So really, I just know God loves me so much."
On the way home I cooled down and began my apology to the Lord. I was grateful to have a car, to have money in my pocket to pay for the silly assurance, to be with my friend, to have enough gas in the tank, and for both of us to even be alive after the terrible accidents we've both had.
Instead, we took his wrecked moto to a mechanic and waited by the roadside while they fiddled with the engine to get it running again. While we were sitting next to the well we began to talk about the accident, all of the money he's lost in bills and medicine, and this is what my friend said,
"I don't see the accident like most people see it. It wasn't such a bad thing to happen to me. From my perspective, it was God showing me just how much He loves me."
I was filled with curiosity. "How do you see it that way?"
"It could have been much worse. When I think about that wreck and see this moto, the little girl, my friend Kenol, or I could have died. It could have been so bad. So really, I just know God loves me so much."
I don't think I know even a handful of people in the world who would take such a view, to see God's beauty and design even in a terrible accident.
It affirmed one thing to me. This Haitian man and I don't have much figured out. But one thing we've both learned the hard way: He loves us, so very unconditionally, and He'll do anything, whatever it takes, to awaken us to that simple and undeserving truth.
On the way home we joked about tomorrow and our next trip to the office of "assurance"
"I'm sure we will get the papers tomorrow!" My friend said.
"You have hope." I mused sarcastically.
"All Haitian Christians have hope to live, because one day we will find ourselves in Paradise." He smiled.
"Yep, betcha we won't need assurance papers there." I said. Patchouko laughed from the back seat of the moto as we cruised in and out of traffic.
"At least not the kind we have to pay for every year."
It affirmed one thing to me. This Haitian man and I don't have much figured out. But one thing we've both learned the hard way: He loves us, so very unconditionally, and He'll do anything, whatever it takes, to awaken us to that simple and undeserving truth.
On the way home we joked about tomorrow and our next trip to the office of "assurance"
"I'm sure we will get the papers tomorrow!" My friend said.
"You have hope." I mused sarcastically.
"All Haitian Christians have hope to live, because one day we will find ourselves in Paradise." He smiled.
"Yep, betcha we won't need assurance papers there." I said. Patchouko laughed from the back seat of the moto as we cruised in and out of traffic.
"At least not the kind we have to pay for every year."
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