GOOD FATHERS NEVER STOP BEING DADDIES

All human being learns things from their fathers, either how to be a good dad, just like their dad was, or how not to be a bad dad, just like their dad was. As a girl, I learned so many things from my daddy, Leonard Wieland. First of all, my Daddy was comical, a real character, although my sisters and I didn’t see that part of his personality unless we were around his siblings and his mother. They all had a gift of comedy and we joined into the laughter on those occasions. Later in life, when we had our own children, Daddy showed that part of his personality to his grandkids and great grandkids. Several years after his death, we all still repeatedly relay to each other the entertaining things he did, laughing at them like it is the first time we have heard them or told them. Daddy had a marvelous work ethic which will always be part of my personality. He loved to work. He started many businesses, made successes of them, sold them, then went on to start other businesses. During my infancy, he owned a service station where we lived in the Panhandle of Texas while it was enjoying an oil boom. He made a success of the service station, bought another service station, then sold it. From there he started a real estate company and a used car business with a friend. That was a prime time for my oldest sister and me, high school age by then, because we had our pick of the cars to drive off the lot when needed. Those businesses were very successful. While still owning those businesses Daddy built a combination appliance and tire store in another town. He hired a man to run that store and it became successful. However, Daddy never seemed to receive any money from that business because he found out later that the manager was robbing the profits from him. The solution to that problem was to move our family to the other town and have Daddy run the appliance and tire store himself. So we moved while I was getting ready to begin my junior near in high school. My oldest sister was going to college, the two youngest sisters were in grade school, so it was a good time to move. The appliance and tire store flourished under Daddy’s management, so he established a furniture store in the same town. A year or so later he added a small service station to his collection of businesses, which he sold at a profit a short time later. Daddy was a successful businessman, even though he only had a fifth grade education. He was a voracious reader so he got an education on his own. He never forgot a person or the person’s name and that’s what made him a good businessman. His memories of events were unshakable and his details relating to events were perfect. His grammar was horrible, having been raised in the farming fields of Arkansas and Oklahoma, but his personality made up for his bad grammar. During the 30s, 40s and 50s very few women worked outside the home and men were the breadwinners so Mother stayed home with us. She also kept books for Daddy part-time. Because of Daddy’s frugality, he did his own janitor work so he left early in the morning, before we left for school, and he came home just in time for dinner. We had that small slice of time at night with him and we had weekends with him when we would usually pile in the station wagon and either drive to visit relatives or just take a Sunday drive, which he loved to do since he was a real “car” man. He loved cars and we always had the newest ones. The ideal would have been for Daddy to be a hands-on father, taking an intimate part in the lives of his daughters but that wasn’t the norm in those days. The men were too busy providing for their families. They left all of the nurturing up to the moms, which seemed to work out okay. However, there was always a little place inside of me which needed to be filled by a one on one relationship with Daddy. I thank Daddy so much for the work ethic that I have. He mowed his lawn religiously until he was in his late 80s, loved doing it. As a child I used to beg him to let me do it, but he refused because it was relaxing for him. I understand now because I am the same way. I call my lawn mowing time my Disneyland time, even though my lawn is huge. It’s my time to meditate and think about writing another story. When I finish the lawn, then shower or jump into the pool, I think about Daddy and his love for yard work, matching it with mine. After I hop out of the shower and dress, sit in my recliner while reading the daily paper, a magazine or a book, I think about Daddy and the depth of pleasure that he felt in the same situation, doing a job right, looking back at it and seeing its manicured beauty, finishing the job, showering off the sweat, then sitting quietly in his chair, and I know just how he felt. Rewarding and satisfying are my description of the feeling. As a child, missing out on having a close and personal one-on-one relationship with Daddy because of his work schedule was a reality; but I’ve decided that when, of necessity, men do that, they later become wonderful grandfathers, giving to their grandchildren the time and devotion for which they did not have the time with their own children. It’s like spending time with the grandchildren not only made up for the time that was lost with his daughters, but giving extra doses of love to our children was his way to make up for his lack of attention to us when we were children. I saw a side of Daddy with his grandchildren that warms my heart. He was his true self, comical, talkative, generous, entertaining and loving. He was still the rock that we always knew he was, but he was also the true person, the loving and entertaining one. It’s clear to me now that men who miss out on a close relationship with their own children always become wonderful grandfathers because they pour extra doses of love on the children of their own children, making up for the losses that were created by having to make a living and provide for a family. My Daddy was a fabulous grandfather. By the time he had grandchildren he had sold all of the businesses and had built a bowling alley in another Texas town. That necessitated another move for the family but worked out great for my younger sisters. The bowling alley was the center of entertainment for young people as well as families and the senior crowd. On our visits to Texas, My own children spent hours and hours with Grandpop at the bowling alley, not only bowling but playing the pinball machines, for which Grandpop was an endless supply of money. Their fondest memories are of the years with Grandpop and Grandmom at the bowling alley during the summers. That was over forty-five years ago, but our children still laugh at the events that happened at the bowling alley. Daddy was a hands-on father later in life. He relished visiting with the families of my sisters and me. Three days was the limit. He came, we laughed and ate for three days, but three days later he and our mother left to go home. We all laugh because his habit was to get up early on the day of departure, usually before we were up for the day, and sneak out to their car and get on the way home. His bed at home seemed to beckon him after three days. Did I miss the hands-on, personal involvement of my dad in my young years? Sure I did, but it was a necessity at the time for Daddy to be involved in his work. He had a large family of four girls who needed the best of everything. We never lacked for pretty clothes. The family always had the nicest cars in town, and our family had a good reputation in the business community because of Daddy. Daddy’s comedic streak in his personality are what we talk about the most when we are remembering his attributes. He seemed to make a comedy out of every situation with the grandchildren. We relish the stories about that part of his personality. When Daddy was in a nursing home the last year of his life, he was only there because of some fainting spells, some episodes which caused him to collapse in a heap on the floor of the apartment, in the elevator or wherever else it was prone to happen. He never lost his big smile while in the nursing home. When we would walk in the front door to the lobby, he was always there to meet us with a big smile on his face. Daddy was convinced when he was about 85 years old that he had won the Publishers Clearing House five million dollars. He called me and told me, “We’re rich.” He didn’t say he was rich, he said, “We’re rich.” That shows his generous nature. I told him that we’ve always been rich with laughter and happiness, but he persisted that we were now financially rich. He said my youngest sister had checked the letter and sure enough, it said he had won five million dollars. Doubting that he was the winner, I told him that my husband and I would drive the eight hours to their town in a few days and check out the veracity of the letter. He was glad to have us participate in the joy. After arriving there, we went over the letter word for word and discovered there was an “if” involved. The letter cleverly concealed the “if”, meaning if he had the right numbers then he had won. He didn’t. Daddy was devastated because he had told all of his highly educated friends at the Senior Citizen’s Center and at their senior swimming classes that he was now a millionaire. He felt like a fool. He stopped attending those venues because of his embarrassment. It took at least five years before we could joke about the fact that he had been deceived into believing that he won the Clearing House millions. Being the good sport that he was, he finally began laughing about his gullibility. Daddy lived until he was 95. Like the title of this story says, good fathers never stop being daddies. Daddy never stopped being the comic, the entertaining one. The night that my sister called to tell me that he had died, my husband and I laughed and cried together for hours because Daddy was more of a father to my husband than his own father had been. They were great buddies and we traveled a lot with my parents on yearly trips to see the aspens change, plus summer trips to California to see my children and grandchildren. His death was a sad occurrence, but we were at peace that Daddy was with Mother who had died two years earlier. We were glad that we had driven the five hours to be with him the previous Saturday and had bought him some Crispy Crème donuts of which he ate five with gusto. Good fathers never stop being daddies, for sure. Daddy proved it to me in a very unusual way. The night we received the news that he had died, I only slept a couple of hours. About 4:00 in the morning I decided to get up from the bed and go to my computer to do some computer work since I couldn’t sleep at all. I was perusing a court case that I was editing when a strange thing happened. I say “strange” because I had previously engaged pop-up blockers on the computer so I wouldn’t be interrupted with unwanted pop-ups while working on the court cases. I had not had pop-ups appear on my computer since I engaged the blockers about five years previous to Daddy’s death. Suddenly, in the middle of the court transcript there appeared a pop-up. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to blink several times to believe I was really seeing what I was seeing on my computer screen. In the same and usual format of many letters we all get in the mail, the pop-up on Publisher Clearing House stationary said “Congratulations. You are the winner of five million dollars.” It was exactly the same letter that had fooled Daddy into thinking he had won the money many years prior. I had never gotten that pop-up on my computer before this event and I have never gotten it again on my computer. I immediately started laughing and I said, “Daddy, okay, I know you are behind this little trick. Your attempt to let me know that you are still with me have done what you desired. It gave me a huge laugh.” Then I said, “You can go on to be with Mother now. You left us with a laugh, which has always been your desire.” I knew that no one would believe me unless I had a witness to Daddy’s parting message to me, so I yelled for my husband to immediately wake and rush into the home office where I was working because I knew he was not going to believe what was happening. I didn’t know much about pop-ups but I was worried that the Publisher Clearing House notice would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. As I suspected, my husband was astonished, just like I was. He stood with his big eyes blinking as if to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. He kept saying, “I’m not believing what I’m seeing. I am NOT believing what I’m seeing.” We laughed and laughed. My husband said, “I didn’t know he had that kind of spiritual influence to do that.” It happened just like I have described. Leonard Wieland, my father, left a memory we will never forget, one that results in a laugh every time we tell it. Daddy’s memory has been kept alive with that experience because of the supernatural way that it happened. My father became a good friend later in life. He is still a good friend because I tell his jokes and antics over and over again. The experience we had with his parting gesture was so outstanding that we will never forget it. He’s still alive in the spiritual dimension caring for us the way he did when he walked the earth. Daddy is a partner with God in making sure we stay safe and prosperous in this life. My wonderful father, Leonard Wieland, will never, ever stop being a daddy to me. He proved it in so many times, even after the death of his body. I’m spiritually rich. I’m sure I’m the only person who ever got a Publisher Clearing House letter with such meaning from heaven.

AMANDA'S BOUNTIFUL BOUQUETS

She emails beautiful virtual bouquets regularly to me so I call her my Flower Angel. She began that loving feat after the death of my husband a year and a half ago. That shows the generous state of her heart. My Flower Angel had lovingly and generously mailed comforting pictures to my husband, her Uncle Steve, while he was going through chemotherapy. He loved every picture she sent, knowing that they carried love in a pure form. I have them saved because they were so important to him. Her actual name is Amanda and she is my grand niece. I like calling her my great niece because she is such a great young lady, but she is grand, also, so both descriptions apply. At our last family gathering Amanda surprised me, not with a virtual bouquet, but with a bouquet of beautiful silk flowers. She had selected the flowers herself, knowing that I like bright colors, which she always puts in the virtual bouquets when she creates them. She graciously handed the silk flowers to me with a look of deep love in her eyes. I was thrilled beyond words. Amanda might not realize the significance of the specific flowers in the bouquet. It contained a bright red geranium, a lilac verbena, three bright pink hydrangea blossoms and a single white rose. The hydrangea blossoms and the white rose have deep, spiritual meaning to me, which I’m sure that Amanda does not even know. Two months after my husband died last year, I observed our 55th anniversary by buying myself a five feet tall hydrangea tree which I planted in a big outdoor pot. I placed the gorgeous, ever-blooming tree outside a large picture window where I can see it many times a day. It’s a constant reminder of the love we shared during our 55 years of marriage from which was produced the most loving family a woman could ever hope to have. The hydrangea blooms in Amanda’s bouquet signify to me the continuing love that I experience from 55 years of marriage. The other flower, the white rose, has even greater significance and importance. It was a surprise to me, but later I realized that God had guided Amanda in selecting the white rose. Years ago my husband had a yellow rose tattooed on his leg as an honor to me because he considered me his yellow rose of Texas. Since his death, yellow roses have showed up in my life in the most miraculous ways, all of them as a reminder of the love he had for me. One showed up in a large bouquet sent to me in which a single yellow rose graced a large bouquet. The florist told me that a yellow rose was not meant to be in that bouquet. I knew that my husband had been responsible for that yellow rose, from his vantage place in the heavens encouraging the florist to add the yellow rose. Other times a yellow rose has been handed to me by different people who had no knowledge of the significance to me of the yellow rose. As I was meditating with God about the white rose that Amanda placed in the middle of her loving gift to me, I asked Him why the white rose was sent rather than a yellow one. I was bowled over by what came to my mind, which surely was from God. He put in my mind the thought that the white rose was placed in the bouquet to remind me that my husband is now white as snow, completely pure, unencumbered by earthly shortcomings, because he is in the presence of God who is complete purity. The earlier yellow roses were previously significant of his flesh because he had put a single yellow rose on his leg in my honor; but the white rose is a visual representation of the sinless and pure state in which he exists now with God, white as snow, transformed by the nature of God. The amazing thing is that I have said many times that Steve is perfect now with the nature of God, whom he loves. Amanda gave me a white rose as a visual reminder of that truth, and she didn’t even know she was doing it. She just selected what she felt were the right flowers. That’s what makes it so much more heart warming, the fact that the idea originated from the Heart of God, sent to comfort and bring joy to me, and He sent it through my Flower Angel, Amanda. Amanda is certainly a wonderful blessing to me. God worked mightily through her when He impressed her to include the hydrangea blooms and the single white rose, both which carry great significance to me. It was another wonderful gift from God, sent to me directly through my Flower Angel, Amanda. Thank you, Amanda, for reminding Me that Steve is pure as the driven snow, joyful and rejoicing in heaven with God. Your bouquet brings me joy unspeakable.

JIRAH, THE PROVIDER

So who is Jirah? If you’ve never heard of Him, He’s more commonly called Jehovah Jirah, meaning God, the Provider. That is the first way God revealed Himself to people, actually first to Abraham who was the father of many nations. If you were Abraham who was 99 years old and God had told you that your 100 year old wife was going to have a son, you would certainly need to know God as the Provider or you would never have believed Him, even though He’s God. I learned years ago that God will always provide what a person needs. Experience is the best teacher, for sure, and there are many, many notches on my experience belt to remind me that He always provides. Now, the provision might not come in the wrapping that a person expects, but it is always perfect for the occasion. One meaningful experience comes to mind where God provided for a family need in a dramatic way. It happened after my husband of 55 years died. My loving and attentive three adult children were efficient in helping with all of the funeral plans in addition to helping with insurance calls, banking calls, business calls, retirement arrangement calls and all the other calls that occur after the death of a loved one. Everything was falling into place, thanks to each individual’s expertise in whichever areas they were experienced. Relating to the funeral arrangements, the one thing that had not been arranged was my asking someone to stay at the house during the funeral, which is a wise thing to do in order to answer calls, receive food and provide the human equivalent to a burglar alarm since there are times when vacant homes are robbed when the family is attending the funeral of a loved one. As it got closer to the day of the funeral, all three adult children and other relatives became concerned about not having someone to “sit” with the house. I kept telling them that God would send the right one, that we did not need to be concerned. That was hard to do for all of my efficient children. Occasionally one of them would inquire about who I was going to ask to sit with the house. Bless their hearts, they were really concerned. Rightfully so. They probably thought I was foolish to trust God with that task when it could so easily be handled by me. I had that knowing deep in my spirit that God was going to send someone. Didn’t know who and didn’t know when, but I just had that gift of faith that He would send the person, that I didn’t need to be concerned about that task. The day before the funeral I decided I needed to get out of the house. The house was full of relatives who were busying themselves doing household chores and other duties in preparation for the funeral and the pizza wake which we had decided to have at our home after the funeral. Pizza was my husband’s favorite food so it was appropriate to have a pizza wake for incoming relatives and friends. Suddenly I had an intense desire to go into the front yard and water some plants, which seemed a weird desire since it was still cold in the early spring and there was no need to water the plants. It was good to get away from the busyness in the house where loving chatter was forever present. As I was holding the water hose on one of the azalea plants, a car pulled into the driveway. It was Melody, a friend who lives in the next block. Melody and I have had a friendship which did not involve regular visits. In fact, we had infrequent conversations but each rare one resulted in loving communication. Melody gave me a big hug and inquired how I was doing, to which I answered that I was doing fine, just needed to get out of the house a minute. We stood and chatted for just a very few minutes when Melody said, “I would like to stay at your house during Steve’s funeral. Do you have anyone appointed to that task?” Well, glory be, there was the provision of My Heavenly Father. He certainly is Jehovah Jirah, as Abraham knew him. Melody also told me that she considered it as a ministry for herself to provide that duty for a grieving family. Immediately I told Melody that I had been waiting for her. I told her about the concerns of my adult children and that I had assured them over and over again that God would provide the house sitter. She was pleased to be the answer to our prayers. I grabbed her hand and led her into the house, eager to physically show the “doubting Thomases” in the house that God had so expertly provided the person we needed. Feeling like I was dragging Melody behind me, we entered the front door and I called to everyone in the house to come immediately because I had something to show them. The room became filled with my children, a few of my grown grandchildren, sisters, brothers and other relatives. It was a delight to introduce Melody as the one God provided for the task. I reminded everyone who was listening that we didn’t have to ask anyone, that God had supernaturally appointed the proper one, Melody, who considered it a gift to the family. If there was anyone in my house that day who doubted that God will provide what a person needs, he or she was convinced on that occasion that Our Heavenly Father is truly God, the Provider. Our provision had walked right up to our door and volunteered, as directed by Him. Thank you, God, for proving that you provide; and thank you, Melody, that you were obedient to the calling of God. Melody’s gift to us that day was a living example of a Loving Father being whom He says He is, God the Provider. It was a dramatic representation to the entire family that, in that occasion, asking God to provide was more sure than asking a person to provide. We all learned a valuable and faith building lesson.

THE ONE AND ONLY MIT WRIGHT

Mit Wright came into our lives in a very miraculous way fifty-three years ago. My husband had graduated from a court reporting school in Texas and was hired by a federal judge in Muskogee, Oklahoma to be his court reporter. At that time Oklahoma was thought of as being way far back in the sticks of the U.S. When we informed people in Texas of our plans to move to Oklahoma, we were ridiculed and told that nobody moves to Oklahoma, people move out of Oklahoma. That did not put a damper upon our excitement to move there because we had seen the city and fell in love with its huge big trees and beautiful green lawns. It looked like heaven to us because the plains of Texas certainly didn’t offer scenery to compare to Eastern Oklahoma. My husband’s parents had very good friends named Thorwald and Katherine Anderson who were also excited that we were moving to Muskogee because they had a niece who lived there and they wanted us to meet her. There was one problem. They knew her married name was Joyce Wright, but they didn’t know her husband’s name or their address. They only knew her P.O. Box number. I kept thinking that they must expect us to go to the Post Office and hang out by her box until someone came to get the mail and then introduce ourselves. Little did we know that plans were already in operation along the lines of making sure we got acquainted with her. Our moving van driver unloaded our furniture at the rental house in Muskogee and we were endeavoring to get settled into the nice rental house. There was a knock at the door and I opened it to see a very pretty blond lady standing on the porch. She commented that she wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood. “What a kind thing to do,” I remarked, and invited her into the house. She asked where we were originally from and I told her Lubbock, Texas. The neighborhood visitor excitingly asked if we might have known her aunt and uncle in Lubbock, Thorwald and Katherine Anderson. Could it really be? Could the first person we meet in our new town actually be the only person whose name we had heard about as living in Muskogee? “You must be Joyce Wright,” I said, still not believing that fate had done this marvelous thing for us. “Yes,” she said, “How did you know?” I explained to her how her aunt and uncle had told us about her living in Muskogee and said we should get in contact with her. We certainly didn’t have to stand by her PO Box and wait for her to pick up her mail. God just presented her to us at the front door of the rent house. We had actually moved into a rent house four doors from Joyce and her family. It truly was a miracle, not a happenstance because the odds were too high for it to have just been luck. Now it’s important that you know why we called her Mit Wright. Our son De loved to play with Billy Wright, Joyce’s son who was two years older than him. De was only two years old and wanted to make friends, so he would carry his little chair down the block to the Wright’s house, with me watching him. He would stand on the chair so he could reach the doorbell. Then when Joyce answered the door he would say, “Mit Wright, can Bilye come out to play?” Thereafter, Joyce was always addressed by members of our family as Mit Wright and Bilye was always called that nickname by me instead of Billy. Our families became good friends with lots of bridge games on Saturday nights, cookouts, Sunday trips after church to the river where we had our own private cove where we could visit with other friends and the kids could float the river. It was good times, like the popular saying describes memorable events. It’s always impressed me that we were supposed to meet the Wright family or God would not have gone to all of that trouble arranging the meeting. Joyce was the first person to welcome us to a new town. She died recently, and I like to think that my husband Steve, who died last year, was the first one to welcome Joyce to heaven. “Turn about is fair play.” I think God observes that principle, too.

UNBELIEVEABLE OCCURRENCES

                                  UNBELIEVABLE OCCURRENCES
                                                                        T. Wieland Allen
     Sometimes it just takes your breath away.  Sometimes even we, as people of faith, can't fully believe the things that happen, all orchestrated by God for those who love Him.
     A little background is pertinent to this story.  Many years ago, about 20 to 25 years in the past, a dear friend named Cathi told me that she had had a dream in which my husband Steve and I were the primary players, with Cathi and others kind of on the outskirts of the dream. In the dream there was a long table beautifully set with ornate silver, gorgeous china, crystal and elegant decorations.   She related to me that Steve and I had prepared the table for her and others and they would be treated and served with special care.  It seems that her interpretation of the dream was that God's blessings were flowing to everyone pictured in the dream.  Steve and I were doing the distribution of the blessings because we were the elders in the group.
     I loved hearing about the dream and enjoyed her repeating it several times throughout the years to me and to other members of our prayer group.
     Thirty years ago Steve and I had moved from a large two story house into a ranch style house in a nicer neighborhood.  Property values had instigated the move.  Some of the furnishings from the two story house had been relegated to a large storage facility not far from our new abode.  I had not even peaked inside the storage bin in 30 years, didn't know what was still in there. 
       Steve died last year and my adult children came to help clean out the storage bin.  The adult children and several of their own children were helping with the cleanup. If they wanted some articles themselves, that was fine with me.  I didn't want any of it, figuring if I did without it for 30 years I can do without it again for another 30 years.
       However, my daughter brought back to my home a large picture which had hung in our dining room in the old house.  When I saw the picture I knew that it needed to be given to Cathi, who had had the dream. 
       The picture shows a long table with elegant gold eating utensils, plates and gold candlesticks. The picture goes on and on, with no end to the settings. The gold frame on the picture sets off its elegance.  There is a caption below the picture that says something to the effect of, "Come now. All things are ready."
       Cathi had not been to our prayer meeting in eight or nine months for two reasons: one being that she had had a severe case of shingles from which it took her months and months to recover.  She also had become the primary caregiver for her mother who has Alzheimer's.  Even though we talked on the phone occasionally, she no longer had any free time to join with us every Tuesday for Bible study and prayers.
       I took the cleaned up, beautiful picture with me to Bible study at Jane's house, who was hostessing the meeting that Tuesday.  I left it in the car with the intention of dropping  the picture by Cathi's house after the meeting.
       I was the first lady to get to Jane's house, after running five errands on the way there.  I sat down and was resting when the door opened and Cathi breezed in like a breath of fresh air.  It was a definite miracle.  We had not seen her in eight or nine months but the same day I had the beautiful picture for her, she shows up for Bible study and prayers.   It was what we call a "God thing."  Jane had the day before, as a result of a fleeting thought, phoned Cathi's number and left a message that we were meeting at her house.  After seeing Cathi enter, I ran to my car and retrieved the picture for her.  She was completely speechless.
      The only difference in the scene in the dream Cathi had and the picture that I had brought to her was that there were silver place settings in her dream and there were gold table settings in the picture.  Gold is the sign of royalty.  Kings and queens eat off of gold table settings.
       We ate our lunch and before we began to give our prayer requests and begin praying, Cathi announced that we should look at the plates on which our meals had been served.  They had the same gold etchings along the outside of the plates that were on the plates in the picture.  We were flabbergasted. 
      Jane disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a gold plate that matched the ones on which we ate.  The plate is an exact replica of the plates in the picture. To say we were astounded puts our reaction to the miracle in a term which is far from adequate.
      The first miracle was that the picture was saved, brought to my house, put in my car and taken with me to Jane's house  Second miracle was that Cathi walked in, whom we had not seen for eight to nine months.  After Cathi rejoiced about the picture, she noted the third miracle, that the china on which we ate our lunch had the same etchings as the plates in the picture.  Then the fourth miracle was that Jane went to her cupboard and brought out an exact duplicate of the gold china plates in the picture.
       When we consider the orchestration to which God went to prove His love to Cathi, there is no doubt that He works mighty wonders in our behalf.
       Sometimes it's hard for the human mind to believe, even though we have seen it and lived in the occurrences of a miracle.
       God is the best and most wonderful Father who loves to confirm His love to His children.
       This is one of those times I didn't even ask God how He did the miracle.  I just know He has His marvelous ways. 
       Cathi remarked that the picture said to her that God had prepared her blessings for her years ago and they were waiting for her to access them.  I call it a faith picture, a confirmation of the dream she had years ago.  Cathi can now relish the fact that her Heavenly Father considers her His royal child, the daughter of a king, of which He has prepared, just for her, more than she dare think or desire, according to the power in her.   The power in her is faith, the gift of faith that's given by God's Holy Spirit.
     It says, "Come now, Cathi, for all things are now ready."          
   

WHOSE COAT?

     My miracle story about the tire shop man who fixed my tire, checked all the other tires and the spare and didn’t charge me anything, has escalated into a new and interesting miracle.
      I was so joyful at having favor with God and men, which had come to my mind after being favored by the kind tire shop man, and I went shopping at my favorite store. After hearing the checkout lady talking about being in agreement and working well with one of the other clerks, I just happened to mention that I had had a special morning and asked if the lady wearing the name tag of Amy wanted to hear a story that would make her happy. She said yes, she would welcome a good testimony.

       I told her the story about having favor with the tire store man and she relayed to me that when I had walked in the store that morning she had said to herself, there’s a lady wearing a coat of my colors, just like Joseph's coat of many colors in the Bible.
      We enjoyed the company of each other for a few minutes and then I left to run more errands.
     I had not thought of the incident again. However, a friend happened to mention that she has a special friend who started working at that retail store. After we compared stories, it turns out that it’s the same person, Amy. We shared stories about Amy and how sweet and loving she is. My friend mentioned that she is going to ask Amy to come to the Bible study group that we both attend. I was excited about that for sure, excited about sharing with Amy about God’s goodness.
     Today was a day that I had set aside to plant some rose bushes what I had bought when my husband was undergoing chemotherapy.  I had merely set the plants that were still inside of the utility pots in which they were planted at the nursery, put those pots inside of other pots because I didn’t have time to put them permanently into decorative pots. They sat in the utility pots inside of the other pots all winter and survived. I was hoping they would survive the winter because the rose bushes are very unusual. They have small rose blooms all over the bushes in multiple colors on the same bush. I’ve never seen that. They are pink, orange, white and varying shades of those colors, coral, tangerine, etc.
     Today as I was taking one of the rose bushes out of the utility pot to put into a decorative pot, which will be its new home, I noticed that there was still the paper label on that bush. I looked at it and was amazed. The name of the rose bush was Joseph's  Coat of Many Colors. I couldn’t believe it. I searched the other bushes and found two more paper labels. Both had the same name of the rose bushes, Joseph's Coat of Many Colors.
     I believe that Amy is to join with us in the Bible Study and I believe that I am to read the story again about Joseph and his coat of many colors. God doesn’t go to that much trouble to set up that scenario for naught. There is a message of wisdom and a lesson for Amy, for our mutual friend, for the ladies in the Bible study group and for me.
     It is so exciting to be able to experience special events which we know were orchestrated by God. In fact, I was at that store yesterday and Amy waited on me. I bought orange jeans. Now, those bright orange jeans will go great with my jacket or coat of many colors, which Amy so aptly named.
     I love colors. I always say that I am definitely kin to Our Heavenly Father because I love to join with Him in adorning the earth is many colors. It keeps me happy and excited about life to see a variety of beautiful colors, a feast for my eyes.
      Now, those bright orange jeans will go great with My jacket or coat of many colors, which Amy so aptly named.
     Watch for me.  you won't be able to miss me.  I'm the lady wearing the bright orange jeans and the many colored jacket.  If Joseph can get away with it, so can I.   

IN FAVOR WITH GOD AND MAN

     Blessings come out of nowhere and overtake us! I am in awe of God and the thing He does for His children because He loves us.
     Yesterday I got into my car, eager to go on an afternoon jaunt to run errands. The notification that came on the lighted display on my car said that I had low tire pressure. It had notified me of that caution a couple of days previously and my son had aired up the offending tire. There was the same message again in lights so that I couldn’t miss it.
     As is my habit when that caution occurs, I got out of the car and visually checked the tires. There it was, a tire completely flat on the right front of the car, which necessitated another call to my son to come and more adequately assess the situation when he left work.
     “Yeah, Mom, it’s completely flat,” was his complete assessment. He got the spare tire out of the back of the MKX and proceeded to change the flat tire to the spare tire. However, the spare seemed in need of a little bit of air also, so Son took the spare to the local Kum and Go convenience store to air up the spare tire since I would be driving on it to take the flat one to the tire repair shop.
     That was not completely accomplished because the air hose at the convenience store had a weird nozzle on it and Son felt like he had let more air out of the spare tire than he had put in it.
     We decided after conferring a minute to go ahead and have him put the spare on the car so that I could go the next morning to a local tire repair shop in town and have the flat tire repaired and put back on the car.
      After successfully putting the spare tire on the car, My son reminded me that I must drive carefully on it to the tire store the next day because of the tire not being completely inflated. He even told me the most direct route to drive in case the spare also became flat. I appreciated the advice.
     Rising a little earlier the next morning, I called the tire repair shop and told the owner my dilemma, that the big tire was completely flat and needed to be fixed, and that the spare might get me there on a wing and a prayer. The owner said to come right on and he would do what was necessary.
     It happened exactly like what I had said to the owner, I got there on lots of prayer and the wings of the angels. The car had a definite tilt to the right and the steering wheel felt like it was being tugged to the right side. But, I got there safely, driving the speed my son suggested and driving the route that he advised.
     The owner told me to take a seat in the office and he would assess the situation. I made my way to the office and admired the typical office of a mechanic/tire shop owner. While I waited, I learned some things about cars because the owner was occupied by receiving the money from other customers whose cars had been fixed. The owner gave them instructions on how to avoid problems in the future, which I was privy to the advice and will remember.
     I began to relax and enjoy the new surroundings, which were very masculine with manly smells. It smelled of oil, grease and coffee, a good combination.
     About an hour later, the owner came back into the office. I was ready for the news, maybe news of needing a new tire because a screw was visibly sticking out of the rubber. After all, the tire was completely flat. Instead of bad news, the owner said, “Okay, you’re fixed up.”
     I asked how much I owed him. He said, “Nothing. You’ve been good customers for a long time. You owe me nothing.’
     “You’ll never make money that way, Ryan,” I said. “I need to pay you for your services. You made my burden lighter today.”
    He replied, “I said your car is ready and you don’t owe me anything.” I almost kissed him but there were three workmen who could observe us, so I just thanked him profusely and thanked God all the way to the car.
     When I got into the car, these words came to my mind, “Now you know the truth behind the scripture, 'Jesus increased in wisdom, in stature and in favor with God and man.'” I always knew about the favor of God, but I never thought about the end of that scripture, in favor with man. I had a new insight into a scripture, that when we increase in love and wisdom, we increase in favor with men as well as with God.
     Tears began to come to my eyes, that God would have that sweet man honor me with his favor. I could tell that he delighted in doing the job for me with no requirement of reimbursement. He was joyful in his giving to me. I was in awe of God’s favor and a man’s favor.
     Leaving the tire repair shop, I was in such awe that I just thanked God over and over, just like I had thanked the owner over and over.
     Later, as I walked into my favorite retail store for an errand, I noticed two of the workers were doing a hard job of moving some equipment. I located what I was needing, took the article to the checkout stand and joked to the checker that she must be acting as boss for the day because the job she and the other checker were doing looked like something the boss would do.
     The checker commented that she works well with the other lady because they are always in agreement. We both quoted the scripture, “Where two or three agree, a thing is established,” at the same time.
     The checker was delighted to find a new friend with which to share her love for God. She asked how I was doing that day and I told her that I had just been blessed with the favor of God and the favor of man. She asked me to tell her the whole testimony. Fortunately the store had just opened and I was the only customer there. I told her what the owner of the tire shop had done for me and then I told her the revelation that came to me about favor with God AND with man. She was elated, said she is going to remember that forever.
     The checker said, “When you walked in the door I thought, look, she has on a jacket of many colors much like Joseph in the Bible with his coat of many colors .” She said, “I didn’t know that God was going to send you with a testimony this morning when I told Him that I wanted to do His will today. “ She said, “He sent you to me with an uplifting thing that is fresh and just happened.  It taught me a lesson also.”
    A new friend named Amy was my bonus for the day, too, one who shares my love for God and marvels at His goodness.
    The favor with God and man continues to bless us. I learned something new today about favor and passed it on to Amy who was delighted to incorporate it into her life.
Amy and I are in agreement, too, so our love for God is established.
     I wonder what blessing God has for Ryan, the owner of the tire store. He was the epitome of giving with a joyful heart. I could see it on his face. He kind of glowed like an angel. One wouldn’t expect to see that in a tire store that smelled like oil, grease and coffee.