shinewriter

When we lived in Christchurch New Zealand,my wife an I befriended an elderly widow. When she had her fence replaced I asked her if I could paint the new one in return for the discarded timber. She agreed.

Around this time Hine an I had been asking God very nicely for a car. During the second day of painting I heard this toot toot, behind me. When I ignored it the tooting became more consistent. I turned around to see what all the fuss was about. Here was my wife driving a car.

“Look what we got given,” she yelled excitedly. My face dropped.
“Well you could be a bit more appreciative,” she bellowed.

Hine then slammed the car into gear and lurched of toward the house. When I got home that night she asked me if I was alright. You know; the way a caring woman does. After much of her persistent probing I explained to her that I really was fine. But had, had a nasty shock.

In my rebellious years I’d broken into a Catholic church. After finding the poor box empty my sidekick an I decided to go for a joy ride in the priest’s car. To be honest we really had no intention of returning it. That was until we found ourselves bathed in the shadow of a red flashing light.

Seeing my wife that day in the car had brought back a memory. The vehicle that God provided us with was exactly the same model that had been stolen from the priest. I was in my thirties now and found it quite horrifying that something that happened in my teens could come back and bite me.

Since then it has happened several times and to be honest it does not get any easier. So what do you do? Well Lord, I just want to be the person you want me to be. One able to guide a weary traveler through life. To help them to find the truth during the storms of life.

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