Jolly Green Giant and the Cow

In Pakistan we worked with a relief organization that had interesting names for their vehicles. There was a tiny Daihatsu jeep that they named the bouncy Tigger. There were two Toyota Dinas that our kids had the joy of naming Dina Might and Dina Soar. Then there was a large green Toyota Land Cruiser affectionately called the Jolly Green Giant.

Also in Peshawar was another relief organization that had a program to deliver milk to the refugee camps. For this they used a large stainless steel tank mounted on a trailer. And they appropriately called it the Cow.

One summer we arranged to take a group of Afghan and Iranian Muslim converts for a three day retreat in the mountains. There was an old lodge in a very isolated spot on top of a mountain in another province. Panjabi people lived there, not the Pashtoons who lived in the northwest of Pakistan and much of Afghanistan. The Panjabi people were smaller, more reserved, and would not understand the language that the refugees spoke. It was a good location for a retreat, except the lodge had no facilities―no toilet, no electricity, and no water. We would have to haul our own water.

So, for this retreat we would haul all our supplies in the Jolly Green Giant, and we would haul water in the Cow.

Unfortunately, the lodge sat on one small hill top while the road was on the next ridge, and there was a valley between the road and the lodge. A pathway went down from the road to the valley below the lodge. Our family had been there the year before, so we knew that the pathway was too narrow for a vehicle.

On the day we were to set up camp, our family and one Afghan arrived with the Jolly Green Giant loaded with all our supplies, including gas cylinders on the roof rack. We were towing the Cow which for now was filled with blankets and bedding. But when we reached the top of the hill, where the path took off, we noticed that it had been graded and widened so you could drive on it. This would be a big saving in energy, so I carefully began driving the Jolly Green Giant and the Cow down this narrow trail.

As we went along, with no way to turn around or back up, the trail got narrower and rougher. All the passengers got out and we disconnected the Cow and proceed just with the Jolly Green Giant. As the way got rougher still, we had to use the winch on the Jolly Green Giant to help pull us along.

Then it happened. The right rear wheel of the Jolly Green Giant hit a root that pushed me toward the embankment on the left. The side of the trail gave out, so the left rear wheel dropped off the trail. At the same time the right front wheel came off the ground. With the heavy load on the roof rack, we were going to go tumbling down into the ravine. I wondered, how am I going to explain this to our director?

Just at that instant, while the front wheel was coming up in the air, three large Pashtoon men jumped out of the bushes and sat on the right fender. The wheel went back down to the ground. Then the men asked, "Do you want us to get off?" I said, "NO - STAY THERE!"

While those men sat there, I sat in the driver's seat, trembling with my foot firmly on the brake pedal. We found some old fence wire and tied the roof rack to a tree. We took the winch cable around two trees and hooked it to the back bumper to pull it back on the trail. After the others quickly unloaded the Jolly Green Giant, I was finally able to get out and survey the situation. The trail was very narrow. But a large section of the trail by the rear wheel had given way. The left rear wheel was in thin air, hanging over the valley.

But then we all looked and asked, "Where are the men who were sitting on the front fender?" They were gone. And, why were they there in the first place? This wasn't a normal place for people to be walking. We hadn't seen them on the trail before, and there were not enough bushes to hide in. But there they were at the critical time. And the people living in this area are Punjabi, not like the big Pashtoon men who helped us. And knowing the culture as we did, we knew that if these men had helped us, now they would be hanging around, maybe asking to get some reward for their service. But they were simply gone.

The next day we rebuilt the trail under the rear wheel, carefully drove the Jolly Green Giant to the bottom of the trail, then gingerly made our way back up the hill. We didn't dare tow the Cow up the hill. Instead, we let down the winch from the road above and pulled the Cow through the bushes up to the road.

To this day, we firmly believe that the Lord sent his angels, in the form of three large Pashtoon men, to keep the Jolly Green Giant from tumbling down the bank so we could have a spiritual retreat for Afghan and Iranian Christians.

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)