Boo_Boo Loc: Jellystone

Interesting. I have heard many such stories and it sets me to think. My late husband had such an event, but the person "the angel if you will" that was sent to him was his long ago dead sister who told him to stop his car. Later he said that he learned of a car accident that he would have been part. Did he see his sister? Did God send him a guardian? Who knows? It is possible that he was tired, that his subconscious mind took note of the weather and the speed other cars were traveling and generated a guardian to speak to his conscious mind. It is possible that your friend's mind worked in the same way. Taking note of the time of day/night, road conditions, your vehicle in general and deduced that you were indeed driving too fast. I think that God gave us the subconscious mind to analyze the environment in minute detail. So, when the issue is viewed in its entirety, I guess it was a message from above that kept you safe.

rumitoid

Perhaps I should have added that I analyze these situations much like you do. I don't instantly say to myself, "God likes me best" or think I have a contingent of angels following me around to make sure things go my way.

1, 2 and 3. It was a labor job, no skill necessary. My friewnd knew the foreman and he wanted people that were reliable (i.e., that were not drunks and would show up on time and do the job). My friend could vouch for my character, thus the shoe-in. I mentioned twice I was new in town. The only place I knew that could be considered a coffe shop is where I always went for coffee. No address was given.
4. The owner of the cafe was my cousin Leslie's best friend in childhood back in New York.
5. The cook was a drunk who had not shown up the past three days and had done this before.
Yes, of course it could all be just coincidence yet I tend toward seeing it as the mercy of God because of lifetime of such "coincidences" that were of far stranger elements.

I will risk telling you another "story" that I feel fairly certain we will disbelieve. During that period I was out of work, I went to the supermarket with my last ten dollars to get rice and beans and anything else cheap to survive. As I entered the door, the thought came (though to me it was more like a voice) "Look at the steaks." There was a commandlike insistence to it and I argued I couldn't afford steak but went to look anyway. I scanned the different steaks for a moment and then thought, "This is silly."
As I was filling a bag with black beans, the thought came again, "Look at the steaks." I went back and did a little more thorough job but found nothing.
As I was putting a bag of rice in my basket, the thought came again: "Look at the steaks." Heading for the steaks this third time, it occurred to me just to focus on my favorite, ribeye. Near the bottom was a steak for .58 cents, when it should have been $3.58 or there abouts.
Now the moral dilemma: was this a test? I know it's the wrong price, so isn't that stealing? I decided that the checkout person would definitely notice and went to the line. She paused briefly and stared at it as she was ringing it up but put it in the bag.
I discussed with a few close friends and my brother. I will tell you the results of those discussions later, time for work.

Boo_Boo Loc: Jellystone

Another of your most interesting stories. I insist that you should write a book. I guess I am just too much of a 0 and 1 thinker to have such a rich life.

I too have found mislabeled things, but I always call attention to it. Oh, but I do have a recollection to tell you, simply because you shared your story. When I was a very little girl (had not started school, so I must have been under 4 years old. But, the memory is just as clear to me as the day it happened. My grandparents allowed me to tag along when they went to town to sell corn. We always sold it to the same general store, and the store owner always gave me a piece of candy. On this day he was too busy to pay attention to me, so I took a piece of candy. I was happy munching it as I walked with grandmother out to the truck. She noticed that I was eating something. Well long story short, I told her that I had taken it. I was marched back into the store and I had to tell the owner that I was a thief, I had stolen a candy (penny candy, don't know if you are old enough to remember when you could buy 10 pieces of candy for a nickel or not). Then I had to sweep out his store to pay for something I had stole.

That was my upbringing. 1. Never steal, which means do not cheat anyone in anyway shape or form. 2. Respect, you can not demand respect it must be earned. 3. Remember your manners, the magic words. 4. Keep your mouth closed when you are angry. Words are much mightier than any sword. Physical wounds will heal, but it takes a lot longer to heal the emotional wounds, providing the wound can be healed. No matter how many times you say you are sorry, the words once out of your mouth can not be taken back. 5. Never be cruel to animals. Animals have feelings. And number 6. If you can back out of a bad situation with dignity then do so. If you are chased into a corner make the aggressor sorry they ever pursued you. Those were the basic laws in my home. I still live by those rules and I am glad to say that I have not only survived but have prospered.

And in the case you want to know. When I was a kid, I was told to put away 10 percent of all the money I received (either by work or gift) and my Papa would match it. However, if I withdrew money just to waste, he would withdraw the equal amount. I bought my own clothes as a teenager, I put myself through college by working and earned my degrees on my own merit. I bought my first house on my own. I served in the Air Force, simply because I believed and still do that America is worthy of defense. It was not until I was 40ish, when my Papa passed away that I met my inheritance. And with the bank account, there was a note that read "remember, use this wisely. when you pass on your children should be 3 times richer than you." The account was not modest, but I have managed to increase holding over 6 times.

Was my life an act of God? Good upbringing? A combination? I think that it is a combination, I believe that good people do good things. I do look at things in 0 and 1; it is either a yes or no. So, I do admire those who hear voices in their heads or are taken by the hand, those who write so well that you can see the characters; storytellers are a gift to the world. Which brings me full circle, why don't you write a book about yourself? I am not saying an autobiography, but a nonfiction. It would be a page turner.

rumitoid

It seems that you have had a very good upbringing and have stayed that course. Hard to think of anything finer.

Taos back in the mid-80s was still pretty much a Hippie haven and even had an active commune. A number of businesses were community-owned. The barter system was a functional part of the local economy. It was more like a pasture for the black sheep of every family and various cultures. A very interesting place.

I went there just to visit my brother for a week or so and ended up staying, giving up most of my possessions and apartment in New York to a friend. I went there because of this "voice in my head" you say you admire. But more on that in a moment.

The first morning I was there, I got up in the pre-dawn hours and decided to take a walk along the Middle Road; it was dirt and skirted a cliff that dropped 500 feet to this lush and rustic valley below, dotted here and there with old adobe homes and small farms. Some light was in the sky and I fixed my eyes on Taos Mountain, already with a thick layer of snow; it was early October. The feeling came over me that I was finally home; it was the first time I had experienced that sense. Exuberant welcome...and utter peace; I would be held and loved.

A few days before, with a very heavy heart, I had stopped on the way to my couch to do the daily crossword to look up at the ceilng and ask what I should do, where I should go? I waited for an answer; it could have been a minute or five, maybe more, impossible to say. When the ceiling did not part and no heavenly hordes appeared, I moved to the couch, and a voice said "58 Down."
My emotional state was such that I did not immediately make a connection. Finding the page for the crossword in the index, I turned there and began. Stuck on the first question, I suddenly made the connection; I looked at 58 Down: "nm art comm." Four letters: T-a-o-s. I dropped the paper and went to call my brother.

As soon he knew it was me, he started telling me about the starnge events of that morning. Connie, his mate, had awakened him to say she didn't know why but she had to leave. Two weeks earlier I had called to ask if I could visit. He said it was impossible, his tiny adobe house barely was big enough for the three of them: him and his wife and six year old stepson. We talked for a while before I asked, "Do you want some company?" He answered, "Great!"

I called my best buddy, Charlie, to tell him I would not be going to the Giant's game that weekend but flying out to NM. He said, "Wow, it's on TV as we speak: Southwest is having a special to Denver and Albuquerque." I left the next day.