|courtesy of photobucket|
I was trying to decide what to share on this rainy Heritage of Faith Friday, when I remembered this story, published originally on myspace on November 29, 2007:
Recently, I stopped for gas in my quiet, small county. I was on my way home from work, and it was late: probably around 11:30 PM. The gas station was closed and dark, but the pumps were lit. I am a fairly fearless person (unless mice or rats are involved), and it wasn't the first time I'd pumped gas in the middle of the night, with no one else near.
But, as I started pumping gas, I sensed that something was wrong. I kept pumping, anyway; I even went around to the passenger side of my truck and scooped out some trash. I became increasingly frightened for no apparent reason, and I heard a voice in my head saying, "Get out NOW." I was so shaken that I slammed the dispenser-thing into its place, jumped into my truck without grabbing my receipt, and locked the doors. My gas tank was only about half full. I almost ALWAYS fill my tank.
Just as I settled into my seat and locked the doors, a Jeep-looking vehicle appeared in front of the station. The driver slowed and pulled off the shoulder of the road and just sat there with his lights on, looking at me. I can only describe the energy coming from his direction as malevolent. I was very shaken. I started my truck, pulled out of the station, and drove away without further incident. The other vehicle did not follow.
Who knows what would have happened had I not been safely locked in my truck when the other vehicle appeared...
I can think of another time, too, in the late 90's, that I'm sure I was rescued in listening to the still, small voice. But I'll save that story for another day.
Offering up thanks to the One under whose wings I am tucked.