I was back at the Oasis, and it felt like anything but a haven in the desert. 

I had just left Great Sand Dunes National Park, where the kids were taking their inaugural sledding trip over the tallest sand piles in North America.  The previous evening, after a two day, 17-hour drive had taken us to the Visitor Center of this enchanted land, Noah made an inauspicious discovery.  Our tailpipe had broken away from the muffler, and was hanging precariously below the cab of our Nissan NV.  Instantly, thoughts of our previous Colorado vacation gone awry leapt to the surface, although fortunately in this particular situation, our NV remained drivable. 

But as a Colorado National Park tour loomed ahead, plus a visit with friends in Denver en route to our home back in Indiana, it wasn’t exactly a great time to be driving around with an 8 foot, metal liability hanging beneath our vehicle, especially since this particular cylinder was supposed to be directing exhaust fumes away from our eight kids cozily riding in the back.

So, it was decided that the next morning, with plans to drive to three other national parks in the same amount of days to come, I would go searching for a mechanic.  Sitting back at the Oasis store, where we had previously rented the sand sleds (and where there was cell coverage), I tried to reach the owner of an exhaust shop that I had been referred to in Alamosa, about 40 minutes away from the park.  Having already been unsuccessful in my plea for a repair at one shop (who indicated they were too busy) and having not reached a nearby mechanic in Blanca (despite making a number of calls bordering on stalking), I decided to take off to the exhaust shop and try my luck in person.  Arriving at the shop, sporting a sign that indicated that they were open when they were open, my repeated knocking and walking around located no help. 

Once again, I searched for nearby mechanics, and Clark Auto Service emerged as what appeared to be my last option in this small town on the Rio Grande.  I dialed the number, and quickly someone answered.  I explained my semi-desperate situation, and immediately was told to bring the NV over.  Less than five minutes later, I turned down Tremont Street and drove down a gravel lot lined with cars.  Upon reaching the shop, and being greeted by the owner, I again reiterated my desperation given our eight kids in tow.  He dryly joked that this was my fault (to which I agreed) but I rebutted that the tailpipe wasn’t.  With that, in the midst working on multiple cars, he immediately had his assistant (who I later found out was his son), back the NV into the shop, and he began to assess the situation.  As I stood there, I was greeted by two amiable canines, the larger of which was a pit-chocolate lab mix that seemed perfectly at home. 

As the owner continued to work on my car, a retired friend arrived, whose wife had taught him when he was in elementary school and had become “smitten” with this little kid.  Meanwhile, his son resumed working on another car and shortly thereafter, his daughter arrived to help with the administrative aspects of the business.  I later found out that she was attending a local college, majoring in psychology;  this and much other information came from the owner’s mother, who arrived shortly thereafter having just retired after 43 years at a dental practice.  She informed me that this auto repair company actually had been founded by her husband and another partner back in the 1950’s, and that their son had taken over the business.  As we continued talking further, we found ourselves briefly diving into various topics impacting Alamosa and many other communities, such as homelessness, poverty, and mental health difficulties. 

On a busy Monday morning, I watched as the owner meticulously removed, fitted, welded, and secured the tail pipe (including with an additional clamp for extra security given our long drive) over the course of the next couple of hours as he navigated other demands already present in his shop.  As someone with no mechanical skills, I was in awe of the ease at which he, with the assistance of his son and friend, went about retro-fitting our tailpipe without any delay.  During this time, I was reminded of one of my favorite auto shops back when we lived in St. Louis─dirty, cluttered, and replete with the blue-colored aura of an honest, hard-working place where generations of families had come not just for auto services, but also shared experiences of a hard life, but a life full of meaning.  Undoubtedly not without its faults and fallibilities, I suddenly saw the shop for what it was─a sacred place where people, sometimes desperate like myself, had sought out a merciful solution to what could seem like unfair circumstances.

A little after noon, the work was done and the owner’s daughter handed me the bill.  I was shocked.  In an age where even the most basic of car repairs seem quite inflated, I realized that the cost for this repair had barely reached triple figures.  Already feeling a ton of gratitude for all that had been done for me on a moment’s notice, and never being a big tipper, I realized that now was the time the break this mold.  It would be the best money I spent the entire trip.

Having said my thanks, I walked outside into what felt like a whole new world of possibility.  Midst all of the different discussions that ensued during my time at the shop, I left with no idea about anyone’s political affiliation or religious persuasion.  Frankly, I left without even knowing a single person’s first name. 

But I knew a few things for sure.  I had been treated as neighbor by people I had never met, and would likely never see again.  Instead of being gouged as a desperate consumer, I had been dignified as a fellow human being in need.  I had been welcomed into their home, and I had been made to feel as if my needs, which certainly weren’t as dire as many others, were of utmost importance.  And while there aren’t any corporal works of mercy explicitly involving automobile repair, I felt that my hunger and thirst had been satisfied far beyond any expectations when I first set out on my uncertain drive to Alamosa.

We live in a divisive world, where people are increasingly distancing themselves from those who don’t share similar political, religious, and/or philosophical perspectives.  We also live in a world where lines of sacredness and affiliation are drawn, where legislators and lay people alike are constantly battling over ways in which one particular constituency is superior to another.  In one affront after another, controversy after controversy dominates the public eye and millions of hours are spent debating the merits of what often constitutes an antagonistic washing machine that does anything but cleanse the inequities and impurities that cloud an otherwise hopeful world. 

Meanwhile, in small inconspicuous places all over this land, people are uniting with other people of all dispositions in the most virtuous, admirable ways.  Almost never going viral, with no fanfare or public recognition, they quietly go about the Lord’s work as leaders in and out of their homes.  Taking a lesson from Clark Auto Repair, maybe we all should consider better meeting people as they are, both in their need and in their hopefulness, and preaching through the promise we provide instead of the critiques that we chide.