Precise

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.