Show & Tell

It was a dark and stormy night. No, seriously, it was a dark and stormy night. I was 5, maybe 6 years old. We were rounding dead man’s curve (I’m not making this stuff up, why just last year they straightened the road so it’s not a curve anymore) I’ll show you … it’s only about a mile from Great grandma’s farm.
The lightening struck and the thunder rolled.  I felt the car sway all over the road, thanks to the Wizard Of Oz type winds.  My mom was driving and as you’ve probably figured out she didn’t have a cell phone and we probably weren’t in seat belts.
Because of the curve, I knew we weren’t far from home and so my fears churned low in my stomach, paying enough attention to be called up with a whimper.
I trusted my mom to get us home.  Scary, strong, Indiana storms, the kind that turn day to night and carry freight train like noises, were not on my radar. Yet.

“Huh oh!” isn’t a comforting phrase to hear when you’re little and strobes of lightening reveal corn laying over on it’s side in the field, out your car window. The next flash lit up my mom’s worried face, as we slowed to a stop.  We had run out of gas. I was getting ready to call the fear troops up to active duty, when I heard my mom, quietly and calmly pray… “Dear God, please send someone along to take us home.”

A couple of minutes passed, plenty of time for my stomach and the storm to go into overdrive, until a neighbor pulled alongside, and as we jumped from our lifeless station wagon into his welcoming car, we hardly got wet.

In November of 2011, while sitting in great grandma & grandpa’s Florida trailer, my dad told me of another miracle of God, stepping into our lives and claiming, “I love you, you’re mine, fear not.”

After finishing the compelling Christopher Yaun book titled, “Out Of The Far Off Country” my dad, your great-grandpa Lloyd, experienced no Parkinson's symptoms for about 3 minutes.  He relayed it this way,
“After weeping about the events and circumstances in this true story, I jumped up off the porch sofa, and moved about the whole trailer with no weakness, no shaking, and no steadying myself to walk. I felt like I was eighteen.”  Funny man, Grandpa Grover, asked him why he didn't go shoot some hoops.

I don’t know how old you’ll be when you read this and understand but this letter will forever be a reminder of the power of prayer, miracles, and encounters with God in this earthly life.

Many years, prayers, stories, and miracles (they’re not all mine to tell) have passed between these signs and wonders from God. But these two; one miracle being forever remembered as a great sum of faith deposited into in my childhood memory bank. The other, keenly reminding me of a Father who never leaves us or forsakes us and wants to bless, heal, show mercy and favor.  Oh how he loves you and me, that he would reach down and whisper supernaturally, "I am with you always!"

I tell you these stories so you will remember the mighty hand of God is powerful to save. I lay these words on the altar of sacrifice to the one true God.  I also tell you to keep myself accountable.  There may be big faith gaps in my stories,  and there are other stories to be sure, but let these serve as a memorial between the two of you.

In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these words mean?’ tell them, “For a while, just as the Israelites of the bible, my Grandma’s pride took over and she strayed off course. She wrote these letters to us as the accounts of her road home.” 
Let these words remind you:  Your God and the God of the Bible, stands ready and waiting to do what he said he would do. Call on Him and he will show you things you haven’t even dreamed of.

My prayer for you, my dear grandchildren, is that you will have a long list of 3-minute miracles and may you see and experience even greater signs and wonders.

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