It was mid afternoon on Christmas Eve, 2010. I needed to run an errand in town.
As I reached 18th Avenue North and Highway 45, I stopped at the red light. A guy sitting in the vehicle beside me began emphatically waving his arms and pointing to the back of my car and saying something that I couldn”t understand. As he lowered his window to speak, I reluctantly lowered mine. He said something about something lying on the trunk of my car and offered to get it for me. I told him okay. Imagine my surprise when he opened the front, passenger door of my car and laid a shotgun on the seat. I learned later that my husband had laid his gun on the trunk after an early morning deer hunt and had forgotten it.
As we were surrounded by all the patient commuters at one of the busiest intersections in town, no one even blew a horn at us as the gun was being transferred. I gave the man a quick thank you and expressed my appreciation as we drove away.
I had tears of emotion running down my cheeks as I assessed the seven-mile trip the gun and I had taken from my home. He drove away into the hustle and bustle of last minute Christmas shoppers.
I was thinking, as I often have, that the Lord takes care of people who can”t take care of themselves.
Thank you, sir, and I hope your Christmas was as great as ours. My husband is a happy man! God is good.
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.