Diane Williams - Angels in Action - Stories to Inspire

After exchanging information, he called the police to report the accident and a tow truck to pick up what was left of my car.

The cable truck driver commented, “Lady, I don’t mean to be rude, but I just smashed your car, and you are not screaming or yelling. Is there something wrong with you?” I shook my head no.

Then he asked, “So why are you so calm?”

“Why worry? It’s only a car,” I said. “I’m just glad I wasn’t in it when you hit it.”

The man shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, and walked to his truck. Finally, the tow truck arrived and the driver took me home, leaving the remnants of my car in the driveway.

“Who knocked the heck out of your ride?” asked my roommate’s friend.

“A guy driving a cable television truck,” I replied.

“Thank God it was a cable company. They should have good insurance. You won’t have any problem being compensated for your car. Do you want me to take you to a rental car company?”

I looked at him, rather perplexed. “No,” I responded, “but I would be most appreciative if you would give me a ride to work tomorrow.”

He laughed. “You’re in California now, not in New York. Back there, if you have an accident, you can use public transportation to get to your job. Here in California, your vehicle is your only transportation. In other words, no vehicle, no work, no income. The cable company’s liability carrier will provide you with a rental car for as long as it takes them to settle your claim.”

I followed him to his car and an hour later I was driving a new Nissan. I found a telephone booth and called my friend, Edna.

“Where have you been?” she asked, sounding more than exasperated. “I’ve been calling you on and off all day long.”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I pick you up.”

Excitement thrummed through my veins. I felt a new life unfolding as I drove to Edna’s. I pulled the car to the curb as she watched from the front porch.

“Whose car are you driving? Where’s yours?”

“Can I answer one question before I go on to the next?” I asked, laughing. “To answer your first question, this is a rental car.”

“Rental car?” she repeated, still confused.

I retold the story of the accident, “Edna, I was so frightened. I was yelling to the other drivers for help, but car after car passed me by. Finally I yelled, ‘God, please help!’ and in that instant, the blessings began.”

Edna thoughtfully questioned, “Blessings?” then stated, “Yes, this is truly a blessing from God—to rescue you from the freeway and from that dilapidated old car. I hope you thanked the guy for sneezing!”

Reflection: Go within and SURRENDER …therein lies your power. Changing your perspective changes the situation. Now you are allowed to accept God’s will as the outcome.

California fit my imagined version of heaven. The beautiful palm trees, the vibrant flowers, the warm comfortable weather (I went swimming in January), the entrepreneurial spirit, the space, the wide freeways. My city was a convenient distance from the beaches, the mountains, the desert—I could be at any one of them in less than an hour.

But about seven months into living in Los Angeles, in the most spectacular state I have ever lived, I had to admit that I needed help.

I’d found myself strolling down the aisles at the library, not looking for anything in particular. I didn’t fool myself into believing that there was a book on those shelves that would solve my problems—I had too many of them. To me, it seemed I had more problems than the library had books. I wandered up and down the aisles, feeling as though I were about to burst into tears.

How had I gotten here? How had everything gone so terribly wrong?

It all started months earlier, on a freezing autumn morning in New York. I had been feeling restless for quite some time, and I knew I desperately needed a new direction in life. But where could I find it? I rolled out of bed, dropped to my knees, and prayed to my God for direction.

“Dear Lord,” I whispered, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. I feel like my life has no purpose. But I know that’s not true. I know You have a plan for me—but please, God…can’t You tell me what that plan is?”

And He did. I felt the thought so clearly in my mind that it almost seemed as if I’d heard God speak the words aloud: “ It’s time to move to California. ”

This was not the answer I had been expecting.

It’s not that I’d thought moving to California was such a bad idea; I’d visited with a friend a decade before and had loved the entire experience. I’d had a strong feeling that one day California would be my home.

But right now? Moving to California now just didn’t make any sense. Uprooting my entire life in New York, traveling the entire breadth of the continent, going to a place where I knew no one and had no home or promise of employment? No, this time God definitely didn’t seem to know what He was talking about. For the first time in my life, I distrusted what He told me.

So I put it out of my mind. I had a busy day ahead of me, anyway. I had to take my two daughters to school and then put in a full day’s work. Through it all, I tried to concentrate on the business at hand. God’s direction was definitely on the wrong track this time—how could He have made such a mistake? I tried to concentrate on my work.

But the idea wouldn’t go away. Not that moment, hour, day, or week. It was riding me closer than a New York City Yellow Cab.

Then one day I thought to myself, What if God is right? What if California is exactly where I’m supposed to be? I decided to take the idea seriously. As strange as it sounded, if God wanted me to move across the country, then that’s what I’d have to do.

I was watching television as I packed up all of my belongings for the move, when an offer for a gift from the Crystal Cathedral caught my eye. On impulse I picked up the phone and dialed the number that flashed on the TV screen. A cheery operator took my call. When I gave her my address, the operator told me that she was planning a trip to New York. And, before I knew it, we were chatting away—I guess it was a slow day for her.

When I shared the news that I was about to head to California, the operator’s amiable tone changed; she immediately and fervently set out to change my mind.

“You’re making a mistake,” she said. “Jobs are scarce, unless you have friends in high places. The people are phony and cold, and everybody thinks they’re a star. They can’t drive. The freeways are outrageous, it’s a zoo midday and a parking lot at rush hour.” She ranted on and on, describing in gruesome detail all the things she hated about California. She made moving there sound like an invitation for disaster.

By the time I hung up, I was worried. Why would God want to send me to such a place? Maybe I had misunderstood Him. Maybe this move was my will and not God’s. Maybe the Lord had used the operator to set me straight. She sure seemed to know what she was talking about.

So I’d changed my mind. I’d done a little research and convinced myself that there were no jobs in California. But there was plenty of work in Dallas, Texas.

The following week, that’s exactly where I was.

I found a serviceable apartment in the suburbs, moved in, and immediately started my job hunt. My first rude awakening was discovering that I had to do the same amount of work as I did in New York for less than half the pay. That struck me not only as unfair, but absolutely degrading. I prayed to God for better job opportunities, but the results were mediocre.