Evening Walk

Prodigal:  These cookies look so good!

Me:  We have some time before we can eat them.

Prodigal:  What shall we do?

Me:  I have a story.

This is from Donna Griffith

Mom and I always relied on one another.  I worked at a fast food restaurant, but before and after my shifts she served me the best home-cooked breakfasts and dinners a girl could want.  Plus she gave expert foot rubs, which came in handy.  But most of all I looked forward to our evening walks.

One evening we walked down the road to the first major intersection.  “Look both ways before you cross,”  Mom said.

“Always the mother hen,”  I replied.  Always trying to take care of me.  Just like I’m always trying to take care of her.  Lord, I wish we had someone to take care of both of us.

There weren’t any cars coming, so we stepped into the crosswalk.  Halfway across the street I heard screeching wheels.  A late-model sedan was barreling right for us.  There was no time to run. “Jesus,” I mumbled, braced for impact.

That’s when I felt them:  two strong hands on my upper arms.  The car was so close I could make out specks of dirt on the shiny front grille.  But the second before a collision happened, I was lifted into the air.  I felt a rush of wind as the car passed me.  Somehow I had been taken out of harm’s way just in time.

The next thing I knew I was sitting on the sidewalk across the street, the cook concrete under my palms.  Mom!  I expected to see her lying injured in the road.

But she wasn’t there.  Mom sat a few feet away from me.  “Are you all right?”  she asked.

“Yes,”  I said.  “How are you?”

She sat up straight, and took a big stretch.   “I feel fine, thanks to that man,”  she said.

“What man?”  I asked.

“The man who picked me up and carried me over here just as the front of that car brushed past me.  How on earth did you get out of the way in time?”

“The man who helped you must have had a friend.”

We looked around in either direction for our saviors, but there was no one in sight.  I was unsure about exactly what had happened,  but I’d never felt so cared for, so safe and secure, either.

1 Corinthians 11:7

A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but woman is the glory of man.

Jennifer Van Allen

www.theprodigalpig.com

www.faithincounseling.org

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