4:22 Friday Afternoon

(This is the story that started the whole "Friday Night Story" thing which turned into my weekly blog.  When I posted the miracle for my friends that Friday that it happened, they begged for another story, and then another one.  And before I knew it, we had dozens of stories and thousands of readers, and many, many cozy Friday Nights together.  Enjoy and be blessed!)

I was in the middle of a project that had all of my focus – something that is very unusual in my ADD world.  

And suddenly I had the powerful need to go wash my car at the car wash.  Now mind you, since I’ve been unable to work for quite some time, I had long since given up taking my car to the car wash – even the coin-operated ones.

           

But I had to go wash the car.  And not some time.  Right now.  Not “I should wash my car sometime soon.  It’s getting dirty.”  I was impressed – no, driven – by this little nagging voice inside, to go to the car wash.

           

But I really didn't want to go.  I looked up at the clock.  It was 4:22.  I was in the middle of a project.  And besides, it was Friday afternoon and traffic would be horrific.  The traffic on Magnolia was always bad in the afternoon.  But Fridays it was awful.

           

Yet, I just had to go.  And not later; now! 

I stopped what I was doing and grabbed my purse.  I looked in my wallet. 

Twelve cents.  Hmm…  

Okay, that decided it.  No car wash.

But again that compulsion...!  I had to go NOW!  I went into my bedroom and looked in the little wooden box on my dresser.  One of the few things I have left from my childhood.  I always throw spare change in it.

A handful of coins, but not enough for a car wash.  That’s it.  No car wash.  I’d go back to my project. 

But I looked at the clock.

4:23.

I had to go!

So despite my lack of funds, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, grumbling about the summer desert heat.  I took my empty wallet, got in the car, and headed off to the car wash.

Down the steep Carmine Drive our house was on that dead-ended into Sierra Vista Dr.  I stopped and turned right toward the car wash.

Jeez it’s hot!

Just as I turned right, I noticed an elderly woman, a grocery bag in each hand, leaning up against the retaining wall of the church’s social hall.

I recognized her.  The little old woman walked up and down our steep hill on foot regularly.  Well, maybe walked is too generous a word.  She shuffled, very slowly.

One foot in front of the other, almost heel to toe, she slowly, but persistently went by evening after evening.  I’d  seen her in the several month’s I’d lived there.   

Some times from the kitchen window, some times while I  weeded and watered the plants in my garden.

Finally, one day, I was closer to the road (watering the birch trees that really didn’t like the dry heat of Riverside) when she came slowly shuffling up the hill.

I waited - watering and waiting and watering and waiting – for her to make it up as far as our front yard.

The frail, deeply tanned, wrinkled old woman must have been tall in her youth.

  

 Her thinning grey hair was pinned back, and her watery blue eyes looked at me cautiously when I spoke to her.

She asked if she knew me, and I said no, but I saw her walking by every day and wanted to say hi and introduce myself.

We talked briefly and I found her name was Gigi and she was 80-something (I forget her exact age at this late date, but want to think she was nearing 90!)

And there on that Friday afternoon, leaning against that retaining wall by the church, rested frail little Gigi.  With one grocery bag in each hand.

As I turned right onto Sierra Vista, I pulled to the curb and leaned over to call to her.  

“Are you okay?  Do you need a ride?”

She just looked at me.

“Gigi, are you okay?  Do you need a ride home?”

She looked at me and then looked away.  So I continued on toward the car wash (with my empty wallet.)   

But after a dozen yards or so, I swung my little Honda around in a quick U-turn and went back to Gigi.  I pulled up around the corner and called to her again.

This time, she looked at her watch and then at me.  Then she slowly shuffled across the street toward my car.

I reached over and opened the front door for her.  Slowly, very slowly, she shuffled up and handed me her bags once at a time.

Then slowly, very slowly, she raised one leg and put it in the car.  Then slowly climbed in.

She sits in my little, ancient Honda’s passenger seat and fumbles with the door.   I reach over and close it for her, then she puts on her seat belt.

Only then does she look at me.  Her eyes fill with tears and she asks, “Do you believe in prayer?”

Surprised, I told her that yes, I absolutely do. 

Slowly, she smiled at me with the warmest, sweetest smile I think I’ve ever seen. 

“I asked God to send me a ride….  And he sent you!  I got to the bottom of the hill and it was just too hot to climb that hill today.  I looked at my watch and it was 4:22.  

"Nobody would be home until after they got off work at 5:00.  But it was just too hot.

“So I prayed and asked God to send me a ride.  And then five minutes later you came and asked me if I needed a ride.”

Now it was my turn to tear up.   I didn’t know what to say. 

When God told me to hurry up and go, I made excuses.  

I was in the middle of something.

But he said, GO!

I decided I didn't have enough money in my wallet. 

But he said, GO!

I didn't even have enough in my little wooden box.

But he said, GO!

I just reached over and squeezed her hand and said something like “God is good.  And yes, I believe in prayer!” 

(I don’t recall exactly what the words were any more, but that was the message.)

I drove her up to her house, just three houses up above ours (which still is quite an elevation on that street!)  I reached over and opened her door and unbuckled her seat belt.

And slowly, slowly, she got out of the car.  I watched as she shuffled up the driveway toward the house.  I wanted to be sure she got inside safely.  I’d hate for her to sit outside in this heat.

As I looked down at the seat where she’d sat, I saw a dollar bill that had fallen down between the seat and the console.

“Gigi,” I called.  “Gigi, wait!  You lost something.”

She slowly turned and then assured me it wasn’t hers.  When she convinced me it wasn’t hers, I looked down and unfolded the bill.  And there in my hands were two crumpled dollar bills.

Just enough for a car wash!

I was in such awe that for a while I didn’t trust myself to drive.  I was about to just drive back down to my driveway and go back to my project.

But I looked at those two lone dollars and then at the hood of my dirty little Honda.  

I figured if God gave me the two dollars and told me to go get the car washed, who was I to argue?!

I headed back down the hill and off toward the car wash.

And I didn’t even mind at all that I would be stuck in traffic.  

In fact, I shuffled along, slowly, slowly, in that bumper to bumper traffic and just smiled broadly.

God does answer prayers.  His timing is perfect. And he does care about the little things.

I know, because he told me so at 4:22 on a Friday afternoon!


Answer me when I call to you, 
O my righteous God. 
Give me relief from my distress; 
be merciful to me and hear my prayer. -  Psalm 4:1


I call on you, O God, for you will answer me;
       give ear to me and hear my prayer.  - Psalm 17:6


but God has surely listened
       and heard my voice in prayer.  - Psalm 66:19