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On the Road Again

On The Road Again
By Marilyn Mackenzie

When I quit my job as Regional Sales Director (see "Queen for a While"

), it meant a sudden loss of income of about $38,000. I could have sought another job, one that took less of my time, but other things had happened and were happening in our family, and we were about to begin a different and simpler life.

We lived in a duplex in the same community as Hulk Hogan. His home, though, was new and huge. (He and his wife tore down a 6,000 sq. ft. home to build one twice that size. It caused quite a stir in our community, for the home was quite old.) We lived on one of two streets that had smaller homes, many of which were rental properties. We owned a duplex, where my (now ex) spouse's mother lived on the other side until she died. We thought we would convert the duplex into one home, having his and hers kitchens, connecting the two units into a one family home. But after his mother passed away, my spouse didn't want to live there anymore.

It was just as well. Our mortgage was $800 a month, and with the loss of my income would have been difficult to manage, unless we rented one side of the duplex. My spouse was 24 years older than I was, and on Social Security by that time. So, we sold our home and moved to Central Florida. There we had a $200 a month mortgage on an acre of land, a newly remodeled mobile home, a barn, an above ground swimming pool, and a large laundry shed.

Our lives had changed in another way. Instead of attending private school, we our son was now enjoying home schooling. I managed a store for a while and my son’s father handled the home schooling efforts. But he grew weary of that, so I took a part time job and became my son’s teacher once more.

Like many home schooling families, though, we also had our family business. We published a newsletter about being frugal and made and sold crafts at fairs and home school conferences. I even had an arrangement with the store where I had been the manager. The owners also had a factory where they screen-printed tee shirts with puff ink designs, which they sold to stores such as Crackle Barrel, Hallmark and J. C. Penney. They allowed me to take shirts on consignment whenever we attended a fair or conference. I sold the shirts at retail, paid my former employers the wholesale price, and returned any unsold shirts to them.

One of our favorite festivals was the Watermelon Festival in Florida. One year, my former employer had watermelon tee shirts available for us to sell. My son and I spent an entire month making crafts with watermelon designs.

He was quite the salesman. When someone stopped at our booth, he'd pipe right up and say, "Hi. I made that card, these note papers, and pins myself." Grandmas just couldn't resist. He also hand-painted some wonderful ceramic bowls, vases and baskets to look like watermelons. Soon, most of his creations were sold and he was off spending his money on rides and cotton candy.

On the second day of the festival, my spouse had grown weary of being cheerful to strangers and asked to be excused. Since we had sold quite a bit, and had already netted over $350 for the two-day event, I told him to take his car and our son and head on home.

When the festival ended, I packed up what remained of our watermelon crafts and shirts, plus our table and chairs and headed on home myself. The festival was about 45 miles from our home, and it wasn't a bad drive. But much of it was on a two-lane highway and soon it was soon going to be dark.

I turned on a Christian radio station and started singing along with the radio. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw a car coming upon me fast. The driver was driving way too fast on that two-lane highway, and I was in his way. I quickly asked God to keep us all safe, then continued singing, "Lord you are more precious than silver..."

The side of the road was just a ditch at that part of the road, and a bend was coming into view. There was just nowhere for me to go to get out of the way of the car speeding behind me, and I wasn't crazy enough to go faster than I was already going - 60 mph. There was also no shoulder on the other side of the road at that portion of highway.

Suddenly, the driver behind me whipped around me, barely clearing my car. Yes, he was on the wrong side of the road heading into the bend. And, yes, there was another car coming from the other direction.

I prayed again for everyone’s safety, raised one hand and sang even louder, "Lord you are more costly than gold..." I slowed down a bit, so I wouldn't be caught in an accident if one occurred. Then I watched in amazement as the two cars just barely missed each other. The speeding driver appeared not to notice that he'd almost cause quite an accident. He just sped on down the road.

Still praising God in song, I glanced in my rear view mirror again, only to find another car on my bumper. I was going five miles over the speed limit. The man behind me began beeping his horn, flashing his lights, and making gestures like he wanted me to pull over. There wasn't another car in sight on the road, and not much of a shoulder. I was alone, and there weren't any homes nearby where I could stop for help. I wasn't about to stop.

The driver behind me was pretty insistent. Finally, as we hit civilization again, a convenience store came into view. I stopped there in the parking lot. The car behind me pulled in as well.

A man about my age jumped out of his car saying, "Don't be afraid. I just want to talk to you." His name was Joe, and he asked me if I'd been praying in my car and praising the Lord. I told him I had.

"Wow," said Joe. "I haven't been to church, read the Bible or prayed for many years. I used to go. My life has been pretty messed up lately. My wife just left me. And as I was driving, I talked to God a bit. I told Him I didn't know if I believed in Him any more. I laughed and told Him that maybe he could show me a miracle to let me know He truly did exist. The next thing I knew, that guy was speeding down the road. I saw you raise your hand and knew you were talking with God or praising Him. It looked as if that guy went right through your car, not around it. I was sure you were going to die. When everything turned out all right, I just had to talk to you."

Joe asked me what song I had been singing in the car, and I told him. Then we prayed together, as he recommitted his life to the Lord.

Joe had just moved to the little town where that convenience store sat. He asked me if I also lived nearby and if I knew any pastors in town. My home was about 30 miles down the road. But, I did know the three pastors in his town. I had been to a conference there just the week before.

I went to my car and got the numbers for the Baptist, Methodist and Presbyterian preachers for him. We hugged and I got back in my car and headed home.

As I drove away, I started singing again, "Lord you are more beautiful than diamonds. And nothing I desire compares with you." I also pondered the fact that Joe thought he had seen the speeding car go right through my car, while I had seen something entirely different. Joe had witnessed a miracle designed by God, and that lead him back into the family.

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