Elvis - The Day the Lame Walked

Miracles fascinate me.  Signs and wonders blow my mind.  Daily.  Yup, I said it.  Daily.

I think part of the reason so many of us don't believe in miracles is because we hear a voice saying, "Well I've never seen one.  No one talks about them.  All the magical miracle powder must have gotten lost and fizzled sometime around ohhh 217 AD."  Here's what I tell that sneaky little voice...SHOVE IT! 

I'm about to change that stale, boring mindset of yours.  In fact I hope I ruffle some neatly laid feathers.  That's what someone did for me.  They took my stuffy theological arguments and practices and smashed them. 

Meet Elvis.  He's about 35 and Nicaraguan. 

I met Elvis on the street corner by the ATM machine.  He was propped up against the bank and his crutches.  A large black medical boot covered one of his legs.  Fortunately, Celeste insisted on stopping and asked for my translation services.  He readily agreed to some prayer on his leg.  He also asked us to pray for his family and that he could go back to work soon to take care of them.  Then Celeste asked him to walk without crutches.  He wasn't very eager to agree.  But he did.  (Celeste can be very convincing.)  He took about 2 steps and was shocked he could do even that. Cool!  Neat!  We thought, and then we went on our way.

2 Days later Elvis walks into our hotel, with his crutches, of course.  He's asking to see us in a manner full of commotion.  I'm slightly nervous, to be honest.  He tells us that after we prayed for him, 2 other girls we knew passed him a prayed for him.  Each time he felt better and better.  He wanted us to pray one more time.  He was convinced he'd be healed.  So we prayed.  The next thing I know, he's walking out of the hotel.  No crutches.  Really.  No crutches.  I think I really was speechless.  Like literally. 

We never did see him again.  That means he wasn't begging by the bank.  It means he was able to go back to work to support his family.  It means he was completely and miraculously HEALED. 

The Story of the Car

I didn't ask for much, just a car.

I didn't ask for a Corvette, a BMW, or even a Lexus, but I was specific.  My daydreams were full of shiny Honda CR-Vs rolling thru the snow, packed for camping trips, or driving across country with good company.  I was a "hopelessly optimistic realist," as a good friend puts it.  That is my current dream car - not overly big yet perfect for the snow and the outdoors.  I'm a simple girl...I like to think.

Problem #1 - no car.  I start dreaming.  Problem #2 - I'm a poor missionary daydreaming of a car.  My solution?  I began throwing up some prayers.  My Heavenly Father says he owns the cows on 1,000 hills, what's a car to him?  I've heard some pretty great stories of provision this past year.  I absolutely needed a car, and I absolutely did not have the money for one.  Part of my solution is also a lovely place called craigslist.  And I find this car, which meets all the items on my checklist.  And it's green.  The icing on the cake.

Problem #3 - It's out of my price range, yet I test drive it and fall in love.  So I make an offer.  It's the best offer that I can afford and that (hopefully) doesn't offend the guy.  It's the exact sum of money I have set aside for the car plus the check I have coming in the mail.  He accepts!  I'm a new car owner.

Hold on, it gets better.

We show up to buy the car.  My dad comes along this time.  Turns out, car guy and my dad have worked together for 18 years.  Car guy continues to tell my dad that someone offered him the same amount the day before I saw the car, yet car guy didn't accept it.  For whatever reason he took the same offer the next morning.  Car guy insists this car was, for whatever reason, meant to be mine.  

Did I mention that this car is in pristine condition?  Low mileage, one careful owner, I mean even the engine is absolutely spotless!  (No, seriously, it is.)

Turns out, God is pretty sovereign.  Even when it comes to cars.