God Drives a Tow Truck Read Online Free Page A

gone. Ella stood at the gate, with a funny look on her face. She opened the gate as I dismounted and led Joe out.
"I would not have believed that if I hadn't seen it," she said, "Joe ALWAYS bucks."
But Joe never bucked, not once, not ever , when I rode him. Even when I decided to ride him with a saddle, or ride him with my baby sister, Holly, in the saddle in front of me, he never tried to dislodge me. Joe never treated me with anything but love till the sad day that he died of colic.
    The day he died, I raced home from school, hopefully grabbed a carrot, knowing he had been very ill with colic the night before. I ran the mile to the farm, and when I entered the barn, Ella was waiting for me. Her face looked stricken, and I didn’t need to ask if Joe was better. I ran out to the pasture and wandered among the horses, sobbing my little heart out.
    I sat on a rock by the pond in the pasture and buried my face in my arms. Then I felt a hand on my back. Matt patted my back gently.
    “I’m really sorry, Vicky; I know you really loved Joe.” I cried and cried while he patted my back.
    Funny how that experience from so many years ago would now circle back. Forty years later, Nicole at Hollow Creek Farm emailed her volunteers and board members, asking if any of us knew a humane horse trainer to work with Sadie, the wild mustang.
    “She needs to learn that not all humans are monsters,” wrote Nicole.
    I had never worked with a wild mustang, but I had loved an ugly, old, angry horse so thoroughly that he loved me back. In Nicole’s eyes, that was qualification enough.
    I have since discovered that you never know when God is preparing you, or what He is preparing you for. But I am certain that every experience He puts before us can be turned into a blessing. I was a lucky little girl that my blessing nickered with so much love.

 
     
     
    Chapter Five
    Learning the Value of Stopping
     
     
     
    Psalm 138: 6-7
     
    6 Though the LORD is exalted, he looks kindly on the lowly;
   though lofty, he sees them from afar.
7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble,
   you preserve my life.
     
     
     
     
     
     
    There are good reasons why every intersection has a big red stop sign. It is not just because red looks nice against the deep blue sky. Stopping is a critical skill. I don’t know why my brother neglected that part of my roller skating education until AFTER I entered the regional speed Skating competition.
    I loved my brother, but when he begged me to join his roller speed skating team, I pointed out that I didn’t know how to roller skate.
    “That’s ok,” John insisted, “All we need is a body. You will be the only 18 year old girl in the competition. If you put on skates, you will win.”
    “Don’t I have to cross a finish line at some point?”
    “Well yes, but technically you could crawl the whole way. Don’t worry. I will teach you how to skate.”
    I don’t know if it has become obvious yet, but anyone who knows me for any length of time quickly discerns that skill and talent and knowledge are rarely prerequisites for me to try something. So far, I have never been asked to do brain surgery, but if someone is willing to let me have a go at it, I am game. How hard could it be? Other people learn to do it.
    So the next day, John and I drove together to his skating practice. He introduced me to the coach and my teammates.
    “How long have you skated?” asked Skip the coach.
    I glanced at John.
    “Do you mean before or after we start practice today?” I asked.
    Skip tilted his head with an alarming lack of humor in his expression.
    The competition was in two weeks. I had two weeks to learn how to skate. I put on my skates and clutching the railing, tottered onto the rink. Skip watched me and I had a sneaky suspicion that John had not informed him fully about my level of expertise. He was gesticulating furiously with my brother, and pointing at me, as I eased around the rink, hand over hand on the railing,