It was around midday, December 26th, was headed for the ATY (Across the Years Race) in Phoenix, AZ, coming all the way from Manvel (Houston area), TX. I'd beeen driving Christmas Day and all through the night, and I was moving across the Arizona desert, eastbound on I-10. My gas guage in the old truck doesn't work, so I have to use my mileage and the final alert: The idiot light, meaning I don't have much choice in the matter, very soon!
As me an ole truck are bouncin' across the desert, I'm watching my mileage roll dagerously close to "IDIOT LIGHT" and I've not spied a fuel stop for miles. And then, as I'm crying out to the Lord to get me to a gas station...SOON...what should appear but a gas station and jerkey shop and RV camp...YAY God!
So I pull in, knowing that this ain't gonna be cheap as I hadn't seen a gas station for a couple hunnerd miles. And it wasn't: $5.60/gal. or so, if I recall. But, thank You, God, I was at a pump and beggars can't be too choosy, right? So I insert my Visa debit, and it wants a $0.60 charge to use plastic. Now for some reason, that irritated me. So, I grumble-stomp in and ask, "Ma'am, how far to the next gas station?"
Gal says, "About 20 miles."
"I'd like $20 on pump two, please," hand her one of my last 20s, and I grumble-stomp back out and start pumping my gas.
Then I spy this older cat meanderin' over my way...like outta nowhere. And he stops and says, "Now I don't usually bother people, but it's YOUR fault!"
"Well, wuddayameen, pod?"
Pointing at my Runners' Church trailer, he asks, "What's this Runners' Church all about?"
So, I proceed to tell him that Runners' Church is all about bringing church to where the runners are; and, in fact, I was headed to a big multi-day race in Phoenix to have church service for folks that might not have the opportunity to go to church.
"Well," he says while reaching into his pocket and pulling out his billfold, "I don't usually do much good, but I like to help folks who do." And he pulls out....wait for it...wait for it...Yup, a $20 bill and gives it to me.
I tried to find a sticker for him, but he says, "That's alright," and saunters off carrying his 5-gal. propane bottle.
Of all the miles I've travelled all over the country, NO ONE has EVER walked up and handed me a $20 bill for the mission.
And I realized, that that was God reminding me, "I gotcha, son. Even in the little things, I gotcha. Just TRUST in me, and me alone..."
I'm still a WiP (work in progress). But God's got me. This I know...