God bless Camille and Bob G.

The nice young man who made the initial diagnosis of cylinders misfiring on my trusty steed with his computer equipment never returned with spark plugs or anything else. After a few fruitless rounds of phone tag, I decided to pursue another path to remedy our Toyota Camry’s problems. Either my dilemma didn’t register on his radar or his own life happens to be extremely busy and we are way down his list of priorities.

With very little wherewithal in my checking account for a few more days, however, we were reduced to doing nothing. Mrs. RWP, who usually hears more clearly that I do in matters spiritual, related that she was hearing “Be still and know that I am God.” So we decided to embrace the stillness (as if we had a choice). Our round of appointments with doctors was over and our pantry was fairly well stocked. We said, “Thank you, Lord, that our car isn’t working. Thank you that it is sitting in our garage. Thank you that we are staying at home for a while. You know what we need, Lord, and You are in charge.” We waited.

Some of you may be saying, “God helps those who help themselves.” Really? I hasten to remind you that that is a quotation from Benjamin Franklin ( in Poor Richard's Almanac), not from the Bible. But God also is still on the throne, never late, and always right on time.

On Friday I mentioned on Facebook that we were temporarily without wheels. Camille and Bob G., some friends who live about a mile away, sent an e-mail on Saturday offering us the use of an extra car they have. So now, after six days of wondering and waiting, waiting and wondering, we have alternate transportation available. We were able to go to the grocery store and to church. Thanks be to God.

Tomorrow my son is driving over from a town some distance away to follow me in his vehicle as I nurse mine into a local independent mechanic’s shop that Bob G. highly recommended. My car hasn’t moved at all since last Monday afternoon when its Check Engine light flashed on and off as I was driving home from 17 miles away. A telephone call to another friend, Gary P. at the local Toyota dealer’s service department, has set my mind somewhat more at ease; he told me that since the indicator was flashing it might mean the problem is with the fuel and that it is probably safe to drive my car the three miles to the mechanic.

Tomorrow I shall learn more about the source of the problem from the mechanic. On Wednesday the monthly Social Security check will find its way into our account.

In the meantime, as I said, God bless Camille and Bob G.

Update, Mon., Dec. 14th: The new mechanic recommended by Bob G. told me just the opposite of Gary P., that a flashing indicator can mean the problem is more severe. While he examines the patient, the only thing we can do, still, is wait.