Power of Prayer

By Nancy Moldt Sugges / 13 years ago

The title of these ramblings is not in any way meant to interpret prayer or offend a reader.

It seems as most stores that carry books to read have been pushing a book titled, “Eat, Pray, Love”.  Then the movie of the same title began to get a lot of publicity.  I confess I have not read the book or seen the movie.  It has, however, tantalized me to share a real event.

My sister, Sheryl, and I went to Texas for the memorial service for our Dad.  It was agonizing to have buried both of our parents within two years, Mom went first.  We took care of Dad’s personal effects.  His gift to me that year of 1984 was a not too old 1976 Chrysler Newport he had.  Sheryl and I decided to put everything we were going to keep into the back of that car and drive it to my home in Arizona.  Dad had been living in Brownsville, Texas.

Looking back on it I am amazed at how quickly and maybe even carelessly we shoved things into the trunk and back seat.  Tools, bicycle, fishing poles and gear, space heater – you name it, if it would fit, in it went.  I recall at one of our stops for gas an older fellow came over to us to ask how the fishing had been?  He had zeroed in on the poles showing out the back window.

We had only one event with the car in Texas and that was the cruise control went out.  While one of us drove the other slept as we were wound up and ready to leave Texas.  (It is a HUGE state!!)

Finally we came across the state line into Arizona.  We stopped in Tucson for breakfast.  Shortly after leaving the city limits we observed ‘smoke’ coming out from under the hood.  I was driving.  I pulled over.  Having a very modest amount more of mechanical insight than Sheryl I popped the hood and my worst fear was recognized.  The radiator hose had burst and the water was quickly going onto the ground.

We both knew we needed help.  I knew we needed water for the radiator.   Sheryl said she thought we should tie something white to the antennae and she found an old white shirt of Dad’s and tied it on.  “Nancy”, she said.  “We must pray for help.”  I didn’t always listen to my big sister growing up – but it seemed like as good a solution as any.

Within minutes a nicely dressed fellow stopped.  He told us he had no way to help us but he would pull off the freeway at the next exit and send help.  Off he went.  A few more minutes passed and a pickup of highway workers stopped.  They had gallons of water and thought if they filled the radiator and cut the hose and tightened it back on we could get to our home.  They had to wait for the car to cool.  Just as they began the repair here came a tanker full of water.  Following close to the tanker was a tow truck.

At that moment I looked at my sister and said, “You might need to stop the prayers”.  Wow!!  What an avalanche of help had come to us.

The car served our family well for many years.

That Chrysler has now gone to Chrysler Heaven.