Signs

Sceptics would call this "coincidence," but I prefer to call it "Signs that I am Loved."

Yesterday I took our fuel efficient Chevy Malibu to town. I had Princess Elodie, Groovy Garnet, Beautiful Bethany, and Terrific Trahern. We got about half way to town when all of a sudden every light on my dashboard came on. Then the speedometer, thermometer and RPM meter went dead. Then the car died -- right in the middle of an intersection near a gas station. I put the car into neutral, and thankfully there was no traffic for once at that busy corner, and we pushed the car into the gas station so that we wouldn't be in imminent danger of being struck.

I was able to phone my daughter Trista who came and picked up the children in two lots with her little car while I stayed with our sick and ailing Malibu to await a tow to the automotive shop. You know your life is too full when you consider a break down a bit of a holiday. I made my way into the convenience store attached to the gas station and bought myself some corn chips and bottled water and settled down in my car for a blissful 20 minutes to eat and read uninterrupted.

The car was duly towed and Trista then graciously came and picked me up from the shop and drove me all the way home so I could get the family van for a return to town for the children and a resumption of the grocery store trip.

So my first sign that I am loved is the fact that God arranged for my car to have a fit in a convenient location.

Well, we got through the grocery shopping in record time. I drove home with a van load of food and the children only to realize once I got home that I had left my keys to the office behind at the grocery store and now could not answer the business phone or get to the computer or any of the 3 million things that I keep in here. So... back into the van with Handsome Hannah and Neat Nate in the hopes that my keys would be found and a brief stop at the Y to work out some of the kinks my back had acquired during the course of the day.

I walked into SuperStore and inquired about the keys. They were not there. I started to walk around the store to see if I could find them, only to be called back by the customer service rep on the PA. Someone had just turned my keys in.

So there you have it -- my car breaks down in a good place for breaking down, and my keys are returned at precisely the same moment I am in the store. Coincidence? Nah. I am Loved.