The Little Red Tractor

The day was sunny, few clouds in the sky. The woman stands looking out at the lush green trees and the path her husband had labored to make winding its way to the flowing creek at the back of their property.

They had made a small beach area next to the creek and carried a picnic table and benches and set them on the newly created beach for days just like this.

The woman thinks, “It’s a beautiful day. Maybe I’ll ride down and check things out.” She walks to the small shed where her small red tractor is stored and slowly opens the doors. She smiles when seeing the shiny tractor safely resting where she had left it.

Positioning herself on the black seat she fires up the engine and slowly backs out. She aims for the path and begins driving around the curves carefully and admiring the wild flowers growing in the shade of the dogwoods, oaks, and pine trees.

Approaching the last small curve she hears a shout, “Stop!” She slams on the brakes and sits looking around. She sees no one and putting the tracker back into gear she moves a few inches forward when “Stop” is shouted again.

She slams on the brakes. Twisting in her seat she looks about and see’s no one. She scratches her head and thinks, “I must be a mental case. Now I’m hearing voices,” and stomps on the accelerator arriving quickly at the beach.

An hour later she decides she’s had enough sun after lying on the table soaking up the rays. She boards her tractor and with no further ado heads back toward the house on the narrow path.

“Stop” is shouted once again as she approaches the same spot where it happened before. She slams on the brakes and suddenly a huge limb that was hanging directly above her comes crashing down. It lands just inches in front of her tractor missing hitting her. Had she gone just a few feet more the huge limb would have killed her.

“Holy cow!” she yells. Out of the corner of her eye she sees what appears to be an angel standing almost hidden within the trees. “Thank you” she shouts as the angel disappears.

There are some who say that if we hear God speaking to us that we are mentally ill. Then I confess, I’m proud to be “mentally ill”  and I thank God that He speaks to me and many others through His Word, through other people, through music, in an audible voice, and through His angels. He sent His angel and saved me.

(true story)

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