Gay N. Lewis: God or Not?

Is It God?

I find myself lost often. It is no big deal. I’m used to it. I diagnosed myself with spatial dyslexia. I have no sense of direction. You can read about it at this link. Spatial Dyslexia.

Reading is not a problem, but I’ve never been able to understand maps.

Should I go left? Right? Up? Down? I take a guess and go. I live in the Houston area and often travel the Katy Freeway. It runs east and west. That freeway, I get. The other plethora of roadways? Forget about it.

GPS is my lifesaver these days. Once upon a time, I’d stop at gas stations to ask the proper way to a certain place. I seldom do that now, but even with a handy-dandy GPS, I give myself time to get lost. After I find my destination, I can lose my car in a parking lot.

One day last week, after taking a wrong exit off the Katy Freeway, I arrived at my destination and parked in a large garage. I made a mental note that I left my car on the yellow level. When I returned, I discovered all the levels were marked yellow!

Bummer.

I felt blessed that we aren't in the middle of summer yet. I’ve lost my car in the wretched Texas heat and walked miles looking for the (bleep, bleep) thing.

Security wasn't in sight. No one to help.

Then this thought hit me. Oh wait! My iPhone can tell me my car’s location! I’ll ask Siri for directions to my vehicle. As I stood by the elevator, I punched the button for Siri.

Our conversation went like this.

Gay: “Siri, find Gay’s car.”

Siri: “Here is a list of merchants who sell vehicles to lesbians.” Siri gave me a long list of local car dealerships.

I told you my name is sometimes a problem. Well, duh. That is one example.

Sigh!

I didn’t need a new car. I needed to find the one I currently own.

Siri was no help, so I set out on my own. I rode the elevator and got off on each level. After a lot of riding the elevator and walking different levels, I finally found my white Honda.

Fast forward a week. I had to go back to the same location, and I prayed ferociously. “Lord, You know I get lost. Remember last week? I couldn’t find this vehicle. Please find me a parking space outside the building, right in front.”

I rounded the corner, and boom! I saw two ladies getting into their car. I clicked my blinker on and waited. Sure enough, they vacated the space in a hurry. (an unusual event for women, we take our time)

I parked and knew I would be able to find my car when I returned. Yay!

I was so excited and could hardly wait to tell someone. I bubbled over with enthusiasm as I recounted my experience at home. Uh-oh. To my story, my preacher hubby replied, “That is a mere coincidence.”

To me, it is God.

Why do we write off a coincidence as a mere chance? God does intervene. Really and truly! He does.

I have a new friend. He is an author and a musician. We exchange books. John Vigil believes in divine intervention. That’s another euphemism for coincidence, and I prefer it. Here’s a true story he shared with me.

Coincidence or Divine Intervention?

John Vigil

A few years ago, a life brother of mine and I were headed to a gig in Colorado. He was driving and not long after we passed Trinidad, CO. going north on I-25, he pulled off to the side of the road just before the off ramp to an overpass. We were out of gas. He had anticipated we had enough to get to Walsenburg to fill up, but he miscalculated. We decided one of us had to go and get gas while the other one waited with the car and equipment. So, I volunteered to hit the road. I figured Walsenburg was only a couple of miles further. It was late fall or winter, and the ground was snow-covered. I had just started walking and put my thumb out for a ride when it seems the first car passing pulled over. I ran up to it

and got in. The driver was late 20’s or early 30’s with twin boys around 2 years old sitting in car seats in the back.

He said he was headed to Ohio for a family funeral. I thanked him for stopping for me, and he said “no problem.” Although he wasn’t sure why he stopped. I kind of wondered myself since he was traveling alone with only the two toddlers. It turns out that Walsenburg was actually about 20 miles from where we ran out of gas. As we approached, I told him he could just drop me off on the side of the freeway and I’d walk across the overpass to the truck stop, but he insisted on driving me all the way and dropped me right at the front door.

I went in and was looking at the fuel containers for the largest I could carry at the cheapest price. A man stood behind me and asked if I had run out of gas. I said that I had. He said that I really didn’t want to waste my money on those over-priced gas cans, and that he would give me a container and to just wait a couple of minutes. I did wait and saw him at the register as the attendant signed off on a clipboard he had. I followed him outside toward the back and up to his truck. He was driving a fuel tanker and had just finished dropping fuel in their tanks. He took out a 2 ½ gallon plastic container and opened one of the tanker valves. He let fuel into it. Then he swished it around as if rinsing and dumped it out. “Diesel additive” he said. Then he opened the valve back up and we watched as the container filled to the top and then just stopped on it’s own. “You got the last drop of unleaded” he said and chuckled. I asked him what I owed him and he said, “Nothing”. He asked where I was headed and I told him about 20 miles south toward Trinidad. He said he was headed west toward Fort Garland but pointed to a red service truck and said, “You see that guy over there? He’s in from Trinidad and I’ll bet he’ll give you a lift.” So, I thanked him and headed toward that red service truck. I told that guy my predicament and asked if he could give me a lift. He told me that he was finishing up but to just wait for him up front. I did. It was cold. I waited about 10 minutes and he pulled up. I got in. We headed south on I-25. I pointed out the vehicle on the northbound side of the road as we approached and told him he could just let me off on the side of the freeway. He instead drove up the off-ramp, across the overpass and down the northbound off-ramp with his emergency lights on and dropped me off right in front of my friend’s car. I think my buddy was a little startled. I got out and asked what I owed him. “Nothing” he said. He waited while we poured the gas in the tank and then we continued onward without being late to the gig.

John had an amazing coincidence. Or was it a God Intervention?

How about the immediate answer to my prayer? God or coincidence?

What do you think?