The Corner Gas Station

You know you are getting old when you start remembering the "way things used to be."

Yesterday I was thinking about the service station a couple of blocks from the house where I grew up. I'm already dating myself because they don't call them service stations anymore. In fact, the old service station was torn down years ago and replaced with a more modern "convenience store." I'm really not sure why they are called convenience stores. The old Marv's Phillips 66 service station was the pinnacle of convenience as far as I am concerned. Rain or shine when you pulled up Marv would come out and fill your tank, wash the windshield, check the oil, fill the washer fluid and check the air in the tires. He'd then return with your change or credit card slip and a kind word. He wasn't done, though. After you rolled up your window, Marv would listen carefully as you started your engine and if it passed his audio test, he'd give you the "thumbs up" and send you on your way. What could be more convenient than that? Well, it would be convenient if he also fixed your car if there was something wrong with it. Guess what? Marv did that, too. In fact, Marv was an excellent mechanic. He was an even better person.

One day Marv taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten. It was late afternoon and I stopped by to see if he was finished with the brake job he was doing on my first car (a bright yellow Plymouth Arrow). He had sent the other employees home for the day so it was just the two of us. We were talking as he worked when there was a loud "ding" as a car pulled up. Marv wiped the grease off his hands and went out and pumped gas. In a few minutes he was back and resumed working on my brakes. We talked for another two or three minutes and there was another "ding" and Marv went out and pumped another tankful of gas. It seemed like every time Marv started progress on my brakes, a car would pull up and Marv would have to go pump gas.

I wondered how he could stand it. The interruptions seemed constant. Finally I said, "It seems like every time you are set to get down to work you have to stop and pump gas. That must drive you nuts."

He looked at me and said simply, "Pumping gas is my business, its not an interruption at all."

That simple sentence has been a constant companion of mine. Its so easy to get locked into some project that we are working on that we forget that the greatest ministry we have is frequently in the "interruptions" of life. Sometimes we pray that God would allow us to have a greater impact and we dream of doing something "great" for God. We get frustrated when our daydreams or our "work" gets interrupted by people who call or stop by with a problem or a question. God may very well be expanding our impact, but not in the way we expected. The interruptions of life are our ministry.

I also have thought about what it must have been like to have a college student standing there watching you work. We had a pleasant conversation, but my standing there certainly wasn't speeding up the brake job. If I were Marv, I might have been thinking, "Why doesn't this kid know how to do a simple brake job?" or "Doesn't this kid have something else he could be doing?" Instead Marv saw the opportunity to build a relationship and without knowing it said something that I've carried with me for many years. I try to remember the possibility of being a "Marv" for the people that cross my path.

The old service stations are mostly gone now. Its too bad, I learned a lot there.