There was a time when John and I prayed to be of more service; the result was instantaneous, surprising, exuberating, and exhausting. Often odd opportunities stacked up high. I’ll tell you of just one day but to put the miracle in perspective, let me first tell you about our long block (thirteen houses on our side of the street, thirteen on the other.) We had several break ins within one week so John and a neighbor formulated a plan. John introduced himself to each family and asked if they would like to be represented on a map of our immediate area. Each square on the notebook paper indicated a home held the names, addresses, and phone numbers of the occupants. We could all the map to check on only fishy looking occurrences. Everyone participated, although for several days a few neighbors, further down the street, refused to answer their doors when John knocked. They explained later they’d seen him around for a long time and always though he was a homeless guy looking for hand- outs.
John wasn’t offended; he was pleased! He had succeeded in dressing for success! He was invincible! By dressed “down” people wouldn’t bother HIM. Strangers would NEVER walk up to him and talk to him! Therefore he was greatly surprised when a woman walked up to him in the library and asked, “Will you break into my car?”
He opened the back of our truck and there was that odd piece of aluminum he’d been meaning to throw away for two weeks. He used this and had her car open within minutes. We laughed later because a week before he couldn’t break into OUR car when we’d locked our keys in! We had to call a locksmith.
We waved good bye and drove two blocks to Walmart where he helped a small woman change her tire. We drove home and by the time I’d put items away he was on the front side walk, where someone’s bicycle had fallen. John was fixing it with spare parts he’d been hoping to get rid of!
Similar “coincidences” happened every day, up to seven occurrences on a few days. We’d wake up in the morning wondering what could possibly happen next, in spite of John’s couture.nancymauerman.com