For 25 years, my wife, Dee, and I did motorcycle touring on our vacations, covering about 135,000 miles.
After retiring on Dec. 31, 1990, we started planning a trip of a lifetime across Texas, New Orleans, Florida, the Blue Ridge Parkway, Nashville, and on and on. We planned to be gone seven weeks and, on the way back, to attend the national rally of the Christian Motorcyclists Association in Pueblo, Colo. We were involved in the CMA for 13 years.
We would be there when the rally began on Wednesday and then on Friday go up to Denver to spend the weekend with our son, Rodney, and his family.
So Friday morning, we had a good brunch and headed north, knowing our daughter-in-law would have a great dinner for us when we got there.
We had prayed for safety before we started, as we always did, and about an hour and a half after we had brunch and were coming up to Colorado Springs, we both got really hungry. So soon after brunch? So we went to Colorado Springs and had hamburgers. Then we rode around town for a while before continuing north.
When we got to the outskirts of Denver, we realized why we got that hungry so soon after brunch: our prayers for safety were answered.
There had been a storm of softball-size hailstones. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. Hailstones here in the Northwest are about the size of tapioca.
There were cars on the side of the highway with their tops beat clear down to the steering wheel. Canvas canopies over the sidewalk were hanging in shreds.
Fortunately, Rodney and his family’s home was in the northern outskirts of Denver and they hadn’t seen any hail.
I’m sure that many times we don’t recognize God’s answer to our prayers, but we sure recognized this one.
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