I used to rest my head on Aunt Char’s shoulder in church and fall asleep during the sermon. On cool days, the hot sun would come in through the stained glass windows and warm our pew.
She was my godmother.
She made sure every Sunday I was in church.
And many weekends were spent overnight at her place.
Two years ago we buried Aunt Char.
It was the middle of corona communism, the Covid precautions were fully in place. I wasn’t going to risk getting rejected from a plane over a mask with a tight schedule to keep.
So, I decided on a different way of getting to Aunt Char’s funeral. I crossed the country in a car in order to deliver the eulogy.
That took some doing.
I was not, then, one of these guys who could drive in a car for many long hours effortlessly.
And as the hours ticked away, after the first night, I realized there was no way I would make it in time at that rate.
I asked for two things as I fell asleep.
1.) a proper Midwestern storm — I missed the four seasons living in San Francisco and I missed the power of proper summer storm. I’ve never seen such amazing storms anywhere else in the world as in the Midwest.
I asked for another thing.
2.) a co-pilot on my trip — I needed to drive 18 hour days to make it home in time. There was no way that I would do that solo. Without someone with me, I would lose energy and motivation on the road and would need to pull over and rest often.
I went to bed and forgot those requests.
Less than 24 hours later, I remembered them.
About halfway through Nebraska, I realized something as the hail started to fall so hard that I had to pull off the highway.
I had asked for a summer storm like this, a mighty storm.
Later I saw that hail covered the highway for miles. So much hail. So big. I had never seen anything like it before. For many hours more, it was hard to see even one hundred feet down the highway because the rain was so heavy. Everyone drove slowly and with hazard lights on. I may have never been in a storm such as that my entire life — certainly never driving through something like that for hours.
For a moment, as I realized something, as I remembered my prayer, I was in utter shock.
I got exactly the mighty Midwestern storm I wanted.
That was my first request.
And I was left in even great shock as the second request came to mind.
From the drivers seat, I glanced over at the man next to me for a moment as I was seeking a place to hide the car from the hail.
He looked kind of scary.
Yes, there was a man in my passengers seat. He entered into my life that very morning. He was the homeless man who was now crossing the country with my in my car.
Partway across the country, he asked me for a ride. Would you believe that he was going just ten or twenty minutes further down the road than me, just ten or twenty minutes past my childhood home?
I had been given the copilot I asked for.
As hail pounded my car and the homeless man spoke on about something, I began to sit there totally in awe that God had given me the things I had asked for, the things I needed to make it home to deliver that eulogy.
I had picked him up at a Walmart in Wyoming and he just so happened to need to travel every foot of distance I had to travel and a little more.
I was stopping in to the store to get some food for the road, so I wouldn’t have to stop.
I tend to greet everyone I see.
I said “Hi,” to him as he walked by me as I was getting out of my car.
He was wrapped in a blue tarp. Hiking clothes underneath. A backpack. In his twenties. Very slender, likely malnourished. Eyes that were a little crazy.
He came back up to me less than a minute later and asked if I happened to be going east.
I told him I was. And when he told me where he was going, I knew exactly where it was.
I told him to wait a few minutes. Inside I bought food for two.
I likely said to myself, “I really needed company on the road, this is great.”
And we drove a good long time, but when the hail started coming down so heavy and so hard that I needed to pull over, hail like I’ve never seen before, in the sound of the hail, I remembered what I had asked for.
God had give me my storm.
God had given me my copilot.
Absent that second gift, I assure you there was no other way I was making it to that funeral.
With a very short amount of time left, I made it to that church, and I rose to deliver the eulogy.
As I said goodbye to Aunt Char in front of the church, I said something a little obnoxious. It went something like this.
“I know where Aunt Char is right now, but I don’t know how many of you will be joining her. And that’s not my job to know. But I ask you this — is that something you know? When your day comes, will you be joining Aunt Char in heaven?”
It was something along those lines.
For many years, that wonderful woman put God into my heart.
And for many years I ran.
I’m done running.
I eulogized Aunt Char. I eulogized others. I spoke about the community that she had helped build in that small church I grew up in. A handful of immigrant families, who hardly knew the language, hardly fit into their adopted home, got together and said, “We need our own church.”
We need God.
My family was among them.
Aunt Char was the second generation to grow up in that church.
I was the third.
Join me in discussions about the Bible the next few weeks.
Isaiah, Hoseah, and a few others.
Let’s talk about the wisdom of the ages.
Let’s talk about the things that you’ve seen in life.
Let’s talk about how good God has been to you.
Join me by tapping here — https://realstevo.com/isaiah
Allan Stevo
Thank you for sharing this. They are called “God”parents for a reason.