I love this path.
It is perfect in its precision And in the means of execution. It was seven o’clock in the evening And the car was finally fixed. I had stayed a week in Idaho Springs, Colorado. And for several days I was out of money, And the food was running low. But just a few hours before, Forty dollars had found their way into my pocket. “It’s for gas,” the Holy Spirit whispered. And I knew that if I only stayed Till noon the next day, I could fill my larder to overflowing. But, strangely, I didn’t want that. The moment that the engine turned over, I was filled with a desire to leave. And so, I put my tools away and left. I need to put some miles down, I thought. And I need to put Denver behind me. And so, I drove through the metropolis And kept on driving until the land evened out And the blanket of the plain wrapped me up in comfort. That’s far enough for today, I thought, and bedded down. When I awoke, I wrote and walked the dog, And again I drove across the plains. And when the gas ran out, I put the forty dollars in. And when I’d driven a few more miles, I remembered that I had another $1.26 in change. I put it in and drove again across the plains. And I looked at the map and wondered How far I’d get before the gas ran out. I counted the towns. And I almost stopped in Russell. I knew that town. But it wasn’t quite right. I drove some more and saw a sign that said Salina. And as I did, I remembered that a town with “S” Had stood out to me when I looked at the map, So subtle the impressions are, Almost imperceptible the promptings! But I am getting better, day by day, at hearing them. And so I kept on driving, driving, driving, And the gas was getting low. I wondered if I’d make it. Yes, I’ll make it, I thought. And when the needle was at the top of the “E” And the gas light on, I arrived. I got out and looked around. And there, in front of the shop, Was a man selling his wares. “Roasted peanuts,” he said, “And almond and walnut bars!” I’ve come here to meet you, man, I thought. And we talked for quite a while. “You can do this,” his booth seemed to say. “Not walnut bars but your own wares. And you’ll be doing it soon. Here are some tips.” Ok, I thought. And thank you, God! And the next morning, I made my Cream of Wheat And then counted my spare stores: Another helping of Cream of Wheat, A potato and a fourth of an onion, And a little bag of Lipton soup, And a bag of chia seeds, And honey. I can eat for another day, almost, I thought. And a little longer if I can get milk to make chia pudding. And I began to look for odd jobs. But before I got half-way down the block, I had $10 for gas, and unlimited food For as long as I cared to stay in Salina, Kansas, And even a place to sleep if I wanted it, And a suggestion that I find a real job for a while at a restaurant, And I was reminded that I had felt impressed That I would soon be working for a restaurant. Fancy that! And I thought to myself, How precise, how perfect God’s directions, And how ample, the means that he provides Unto the accomplishment of his designs.
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