I had just been at the proverbial bottom of the barrel after the love of my life went away. Some might say it was my time in the barrel, to use yet another cliché. I felt that I had no purpose in my life. All my dreams vanished. I moped for a while, felt sorry for myself, and hated life. In the midst of my personal hell on earth, I sought solace in a rather strange place – the aisles of a grocery store. I enjoy cooking, or rather creating delectable concoctions to tease the palette. I love to eat, too, which makes for another story. For comfort to my tortured psyche I would cruise the local grocery store, lumbering along through the aisles of canned vegetables, frozen treats, produce from various corners of the earth, and all kinds of sundries. I found comfort in these aisles, conjuring all kinds of recipes, some practical and some not.
One day I turned down the frozen food aisle. I usually avoided this strange place made cold by the look of frost inside the glass cases. This place, to me, meant manufactured food products that attracted attention by the realistic appearance of the contents, something I learned back in Marketing 101, but did not hold promise once purchased and prepared in the microwave. I avoided this place so I would not be tempted to devour ‘plastic’ foods that contained more sodium, sugar, and unidentifiable substances than any industrial chemical plant. For no particular reason I blindly followed my basket along the path between two long ice laden freezer cases. Toward the end of the ice tunnel, I encountered, smack in the middle of the aisle, a wire display with six or so racks of paperback books, all aligned on top of one another from the floor to the top of the six-foot display. Though I traveled this aisle infrequently, I did not recall such a rack in the store, much less in the middle of the frozen food aisle.
What I found even stranger, in every rack was the same small paperback book: God Has a Plan for Your Life, by Charles Stanley. I did not make the connection.
Through my days, weeks, and months of wallowing in self-pity I can hardly count the times when I cried out for someone, anyone, to help me. I knew no other person was coming, though I hoped so much for my love to return. I knew she was gone although I kept asking myself why. I knew the answer too. In the end, as I looked up from the very bottom of my life, I cried out to the Lord to save me, to help me up from where I lay, to give me purpose, to lead me through this life because I admitted to myself that I was incapable to leading myself. In the end, I gave up. I quit dreaming. I quit wanting. I quit everything. Through tears, heavier than the hard rains of a summer thunderstorm, I cried out to the Lord to take control of my life. I was finished. I had nothing else to do with my life. Here in the middle of the frozen food aisle, on a rack of small paperback books, all the same from top to bottom, glaring out to me in broad letters easily read from ten feet away was the answer I needed. In this simple, unobtrusive way, the Lord was telling me that He had a plan for my life.
At first, I stared at the rack. I tried to rationalize why that rack was there. I tried to reason why the title of that book was what I needed. I stood in the aisle looking at the books, all the same. No other titles by the same author. No other Christian books. The rack was not even in the aisle with the magazines, puzzle books, and school supplies. Was this for real? I looked around. No one was in the aisle with me. Just that book and me. After several minutes I picked up the book and flipped through the pages. Nothing stood out to catch my attention. I thought perhaps a page or paragraph would keep my eye and I would read a little before placing the book back where it was. No, I reckoned that I was to purchase the book before reading it. I put a copy in my basket.
When I got home I did not read the book right away. Later that evening I sat on the couch and opened the book to the first chapter. I read slowly, taking in every word. After a few pages I began to tear. I did not feel the Lord speaking to me directly through that small book, rather I could hear the author speaking to me softly, telling me how the Lord cared for me. The Lord wanted me to realize His plan for me.
Over the next few weeks I could only get through about half of the book. It was a small book, not quite a half inch thick. Still, I would be stuck each time I tried to read farther. I read the same paragraphs repeatedly. I prayed to the Lord, telling Him how sorry I was for the wrongs I had done in my life. I asked for His forgiveness. I asked Him to allow me to seek forgiveness from those I had wronged and hurt. I asked Him to take control of my life, my body, my mind, my being and make something out of me for His Glory. As days and weeks went by I slowly began to see Him working. When I would grow impatient, I would remind myself of words from the 23rd Psalm, ‘The Lord is My Shepherd. I shall not want.’
I love to travel and explore new places. I thought about buying a travel trailer and truck. After searching for months and visiting dealerships in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and North Carolina, I realized that a new truck was beyond my willingness to spend $50,000 for a new vehicle, especially since I already owned a 2001 Dodge 2500 diesel truck. The truck was outfitted with a hydraulic dump bed. I had loaned the truck to a guy in North Carolina who wanted to buy the truck and dumper. After using the truck for six months, and perhaps unknowingly damaging the truck bed and making off with a box of tools, he no longer wanted to buy it. I took it back, sold the dumper insert, repaired the truck, and outfitted it with a hitch. At the same time, I found a 5th wheel trailer. With both the truck and trailer, but not yet possessing the skill and experience, I was ready to travel.
Over my recently ended career I became involved in disaster response. This and my participation in missions for my church led me to seek out volunteer opportunities where I could help people in need. I explored the Red Cross but the people in the local office had other things on their mind than taking my offer to help. I saw a notice for training to become a member of an emergency response team. I took the training and was subsequently certified as a disaster response trainer. At one of the meetings someone mentioned the United Methodist NOMADS. I noted the organization and went home to search the Internet for more information. I found the NOMADS site, read about the organization, and sent in my application.
After months of searching for a new truck and travel trailer, I suddenly had both. I believe the Lord blessed me with these things as part of His plan for me.
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