Everyone Has a Story
By Cleona Bazzy
We were on a long trip from Lacombe, Alberta to Riverside, California. During a time of a national gas shortage I stopped at the first open station I could find as our fuel was running low. I was well aware that tempers sometimes ran short while people waited for their allotted amount of gasoline. It was close to 6:00 a.m. and two other cars were already in line ahead of me so I went to the ladies room. I carefully placed the car keys in the front seat under a scarf then told the girls I'd be right back. There was no acknowledgment from either of them.
Upon returning to my car, I noticed the first car was leaving and another one had come in behind mine. I quickly opened the door, told the girls I was back and reached for the keys. They weren't there. "Okay," I said, "who took the keys?" A slight sound came from my daughter in the front seat. I tapped her on the shoulder. "Do you have the keys?" "Unh-unh." Nothing else.
I searched again, just in case — still nothing. Now the second car had left and more were coming in behind. I was getting anxious. I motioned to the driver in the car behind me to go on ahead and proceeded to wake up my daughters. After some careful questioning and bleary-eyed answers there were still no keys. I began to worry. All kinds of horrible scenarios went through my mind. Where could those keys be? By then all three of us were searching throughout the car. No sign of keys was found anywhere. When common sense, Mother's instinct, and human effort came to naught we finely resorted to prayer. We stood near the back of the car in a prayer huddle. As I opened my eyes, I saw the keys through the back window in plain sight. I knew the girls would not have placed the keys in that window ledge.
The back window of our car was designed at such an angle that anything behind the back seat reflected in the front window. Thus I had an "absolute law" that nothing ever went in the back window. I had explained the safety reasons for this "law"' and rarely did anything get placed there. On two occasions I had pulled over, stopped, and sat quietly until one of the girls remembered to check that area and retrieved whatever had been put there. Then I simply said, "Thank you," and drove on.
I don't know how those keys moved from the front seat to the back window. I don't know what prompted us to stand near the back of the car when we prayed. I do know Who sent His angels to remind us of His watch care over a lone woman and two young girls traveling in a car with an out-of-country license plate.
Cleona Bazzy writes from eastern Washington. All rights reserved © 2011 StoryHarvest.org. Click here for content usage information.