Lug Nut's accident post sparked this memory...

I grew up a typical middle class kid in a family that was religious but not fanatically so...services once a month or so, Holidays observed...you know, basically normal. Ahhhhh, but I had to be the rebel...never missed an opportunity to tweak my Mom (may she RIP) and remind her that man created God to explain the unexplainable...

So there I was, 26, full of myself, zooting along a back country road near home on my new 1982 Suzuki GS1100E...at the time the fastest bike on the road...not a care in the world...on a road I'd driven many times...confident in my youth and abilities, enjoying the feeling one gets when bending into a gentle right hand sweeper on a finely tuned machine...

Suddenly, as I was sliding across the road, through the opposite lane, at a 45 or so degree angle, having not notice the sand or gravel (I never went back to look)...into the freshly plowed cornfield on the left...the bike hit a rut on the edge of the field...popped straight up and I slowly came to a stop as though driving a train on a rail...instinctually, I looked up and said, out loud, "THANK YOU"...I rode slowly out of the field, bike and me completely intact, and I am still on my merry way nearly 35 years later...but I was changed that very day...humbled by my instinctive response...

Truthfully, I remain skeptical at times...but far less so with every passing year...

Many years after the incident, one idle day...I told my Mom this story and apologized for tweaking her...she just smiled and gave me the look only a Mom can give a son...


Sorry, just felt like sharing this...stay safe!

Welcome to the club.... I think there are a few of us here.

Thank you for sharing that. Sometimes it's good to be reminded that we aren't alone.

Amen

Been there, said that!!

Thanks for the Share.

Thank you for sharing this with us. I too gave my mama gray hair, but that's in our nature and moms forgive us long before we ask them to.
I keep a shard of glass in my Bible that embedded itself in the spine of the book the day I walked away from a car I rolled off a hill. Three full rotations and a flat car, I walked away from it with a few cuts on my face. I was on my way to church. People die in wrecks much less severe every day.

My parents never set foot in a church, and they didn't force us kids to. I went a couple times as a kid, you know, with friends, but that was the extent of it. When I was about 25, I met a guy at a M/C rally. He was riding a '73 Electra-Glide he bought new when he came back from 'Nam. We hit it off real well. I talked to this guy for over an hour before it was brought to my attention by someone else he was a Pastor and had his own Ministry, called For Whomsoever Will Ministry, and he had a church in a little town called Kempner, Texas. He never tried to "recruit" me, we had just talked motorcycles. After finding out about him, I asked him about it. He told me I could come check it out if I wanted to, he said no need to dress up nice or even donate money, just come as you are and leave when you want. So, one Sunday morning, I did go check it out. He wasn't all fire and brimstone, didn't speak in tongues or any thing like that. Just a calm, cool confidence. Well, I didn't become a regular attendee but we remained friends through the years. He married my wife and I.

I landed in a hospital bed with acute pnuemonia. Didn't look good, lungs were full of liquid, I was breathing like an overheated chihuahua, and clinging to every one of those short raspy little breaths. I couldn't speak, I was barely lucid, but I was pretty sure this was it. I was aware enough to know it when Pastor Dave came in my room. I figured he was there to give me Last Rites or some shit. But he didn't say a word, he just took my hands in his and closed his eyes for about a minute. Then he just turned around and left. I remember hearing his bike fire up in the hospital parking lot, and thinking that'll probably be the last motorcycle I ever hear.

That was 16 years ago, suffice to say I made it. I still don't believe in faith healers, but I can't deny what happened to me.

They say there are 3 major occurrences that can truly change a man... one is incarceration, another is military service, and a third would be a religious conversion. I've known all 3... maybe it took all 3.

When I got locked up, I decided that if there was a God, I would find Him. About 3 weeks later, I joined the Army, so I wouldn't be put away for any longer. Six months into my enlistment, and actually seeking God... He found me! That was April of '73, nearly 44 years ago now.

The scriptures say our purpose is to seek God, and to find Him, that we may come to know Him, and His Son, Jesus Christ... if anyone cares to look up those references, they are found in Acts chapter 17, verses 27 and 28, and in John's Gospel, chapter 17, and verse 3.

May God bless each one of you!