Heather Bell
Beside Still Waters
LOAVES AND LAWNMOWERS.

I moved into my new home full of anticipation.  My Lord had been so constant during the
time of finding, purchasing and finally moving into this new home, that I had no worries about any complications that may arise.

It was a whole new experience of walking with the Lord. I had moved from an affluent
lifestyle to living on a benefit, which had just been cut.  Money was incredibly short, and it was taking some getting used to.

However I felt I was being encouraged to step out in this new way of life, so felt confident all my needs would be met.  But I did have this little niggle about the lawn, because I knew I was physically unable to mow it.  Must admit I wondered what the Lord was saying, as He knew I couldn't mow that piece of grass.

The second day in my new home and there came a knock on the door, and a cheery little
lady stood there with a beaming smile. "Hi, I'm Peggy, your next-door neighbour."  We had
a cup of tea and got to know each other, we talked of many things including my concern
about the lawn mowing.  "No problems," said Peggy, "I do mine every Tuesday and I'll just
carry on over yours too."

So every Tuesday I hear the hum of the mower as Peggy mows my lawn, and often she appears at the door with bread, buns etc. left over in her place of work.  These items of food
have often come at a time when I've been really pushed to meet other financial commitments, and the only amount that can be adjusted is usually the food budget.

One mustn't get complacent, but oh, it is just so nice to know the Lord thinks of everything, every little, trivial thing.

RETURN TO SENDER.

My youngest son was working as a chef in Milford Sound, and he was going through a stage
of seeking the Lord.  Not quite sure what to believe in these, his late teens.

On his day off, he went out on one of the local fishing boats for a day of relaxation.  During the course of his day, his wallet fell from his pocket into the fiord, well away from civilization.  Pondering on this development he said "o.k. God, if you really exist, get my wallet back for me."  He thought it all a bit of a laugh really, but still one never knew.

Two M.A.F. men decided to have a break from routine and went whitebaiting in Milford.  In
one lift of the net they found a wallet, with all the contents intact. They looked at the papers inside but the name didn't mean anything to them, so the wallet got thrown into the back of their car, with the intention of putting it into the police station when they got back to work.

They returned to Nelson, and back to work, where my eldest son was also a member of
staff. They told my son about finding the wallet, then remembered the name was the same, so they checked it out together.

Eldest son rang brother and the story was confirmed. The wallet was returned intact -
nothing was missing, although the contents were a bit the worse for their dunking.

I would like to say he embraced Christianity with enthusiasm, but now, some years later, he is still making up his mind.  But the story of the wallet left a deep impression in his mind.
 

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We dont' do that in the established church, we think meditation is somehow oriental based and therefore of the devil and prayer is O.K if you stick to the liturgy or something.  Where has the freedom to pray gone I wonder?