Quarters From Heaven!

A year ago I posted a blog titled “Pennies From Heaven” which recounted my experience with pennies while attending a YMCA gym. Almost every week I typically would find loose pennies on the floor or inside a locker. Every time I encounter a stray penny I picked it up and dropped it into my gym bag. When I get enough loose coins spilling around in the bag, I retrieve them and transfer them to my coin jar.

These days, lost pennies seemed to have been trivialized as being almost worthless. I assume that is why there are so many loose pennies in the gym locker room. It seem like people will not even stoop over to pick up a penny they may have dropped. It’s simply a waste of time and energy.

 In last year’s blog post, those two coins made me think about the Scripture passage “Do not despise these small beginnings” from Zechariah 4:10. That verse reminds us when life seems like small steps or meager beginnings, if the Lord is in the effort and your work, He nevertheless rejoices even though we may not see progress or the end result.

This past week I learned a lesson at the YMCA again about God’s multiplication of blessings. As I got out of my car in the gym parking lot I looked down and saw a shiny new quarter. Minutes later, when I opened my locker there was another quarter! My first reaction was it pays to pick of pennies. Be faithful with little things and the Lord rewards us with bigger things.

I thought of another song “Great Is His Faithfulness.”

Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed your hand has provided.

A quarter is not exactly a bonanza of wealth, but it still felt assuring viewed through eyes of faith. Remember in the view of God, nothing is trivial. Look for His hand at work within our lives in the smallest of moments.

Robert Parlante
February 2016

When Worlds Collide

Hope you enjoy reading this excerpt from “Patch Town - Up from the Ashes.”

… When he passed the driveway entrance leading up to his house he saw a dark-colored vehicle, which looked outsized with its high beams on, stopped at the Greenleaf Lane side road just ahead of him. When he drove past, the vehicle first pulled out slowly, accelerated, and then came up to within ten feet of his car. “What an idiot driver! The speed limit is 35 mph on this road,” Martin shouted to no one in particular. “If I slam on my brakes he’ll plow right into me.”

Linda eased to her left and glanced into the rearview mirror and said, “It looks like a black or blue van. The person’s high beams are on so it’s hard to tell.”

The vehicle was now so close it sounded like the vehicle’s engine roar was thunderous, as if it were a metal-eating behemoth ready to angrily chomp off the trunk of his car. “That driver is making me real nervous.” Martin’s breathing came in rapid spurts. “I’m going to take another way to your place ... through the farmers market parking area. That driver has a serious case of road rage!”

A hundred feet down the road Martin took a sharp right turn into the public parking zone used by day-trippers walking down to the public beach. The parking zone was bordered on two sides by South and North Main Streets and other sides by the Dockside Restaurant and the Community Farmers Market. The only cars parked were those in front of the Dockside.

The dark vehicle made the same right turn into the parking lot!

“My ex-husband owns a dark blue Dodge van,” Linda said matter-of-factly, as if trying to distract Martin, instead her words raising a feeling of irritation. “He carts all of his junk in it he sells at the flea markets.”

“You know Dad texted me before,” Kati said, leaning forward from the back seat.

Linda and Martin simultaneously looked at each other. “And what did he want?” Linda asked, caution in her voice.

“He wanted to know where we were. I told him we were coming up close to Mr. Martin’s house.”

The dark van followed them all the way to the entrance of the Greenbrier Apartments. The van stopped momentarily and Martin turned into the entrance of the apartment complex. He pulled into a spot close to Linda’s apartment. Martin got out of his car, leaving the driver-side door wide open, and starting walking, almost running, toward the entrance.

“Martin, that’s not a safe thing to do? He might have a gun!” Linda called out. Martin could hear the alarm in her voice, but he had to confront the driver who endangered the lives of people he cared much about. Martin and the stranger were about to collide …

The Patch Town books are available from Amazon.com.

Robert Parlante

February 2016