By Frankie Lackey
One summer morning, I turned the key to start my car, and nothing happened. No sounds, no lights—nothing at all. The engine appeared dead.
I checked under the hood for obvious mechanical problems but found none. I called a friend who owned an auto-repair shop. He told me that in some vehicles, the master fuse controlled all the electronics in the car. Perhaps I needed a new fuse.
I lived in a rural area in the mountains, twenty miles from the auto-parts store. But I decided it was worth the trip to drive my other car to town to buy the master fuse. When I arrived at the store, I explained my situation to the man behind the counter. He left for a few moments and then returned with a long, round fuse.
As I reached for my wallet, he held up his hand and said, “No charge.”
Seeing my confusion, he explained that this fuse had been in the back room for a long time, collecting dust. He was happy to see it go. Although this seemed a little strange, I thanked him for his gift and left.
When I got home, I tried to start my car again. No go. I looked for a place to put the new fuse, but there didn’t seem to be a spot for it.
I gave up, put the fuse in my pocket, and called my friend again. He agreed to come out in the late afternoon and tow my car back to his shop.
But later that day, before he arrived, I inwardly heard an inner voice say, “Go start the car.”
So I did.
The car started immediately. Surprised, I turned it off and restarted it. It ran fine. So, to be sure the car was working properly, I took it for a test drive.
A short distance from home, I noticed a car parked on the side of the road with its hood raised. I stopped to see what the trouble was.
As I approached, an old man stepped cautiously from behind the car. It was clear he didn’t know what kind of person he might encounter out here in the rural part of the mountains, far away from the eyes of the law. I greeted him with a smile, and relief spread across his face.
He explained that he got lost and then the car had broken down. He’d been stranded for many hours, and not one person had driven by. Now the afternoon was giving way to nightfall, and he didn’t know what to do.
“May I take a look at the car?” I asked. He agreed.
Looking under the hood, my eyes fell upon a small metal box holding a long, round fuse. It matched the fuse I’d been given earlier at the auto-parts store. I removed the old fuse and replaced it with the new one.
“Try it now,” I said.
The engine started immediately. The old man was speechless for a few moments. After a while, he reached for his wallet and managed to ask, “How much do I owe you?”
I held up my hand and said, “No charge.”
Surprised, the man asked, “But how did you have the part?”
I said, “It was a gift to me, and now it is a gift to you.” Then I gave him directions to the city and left.
Driving home, I felt overwhelming gratitude to the ECK, the Life Force, for allowing me to be a divine channel of service for this man. A miraculous gift of love for both of us. And by the way, I’ve never had a problem starting that car again.
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