Proof The Bible Is True

I was traveling home for the holidays, from Sacramento to Fort Smith, Arkansas, by bus, taking my two young boys to see their beloved granddad. Sounds like the makings of a Hallmark story, right? It was anything but.

 

Truth is, I was broke. Flat broke. Dad had wired me $700—enough for three bus fares and food for my kids and me for the four-day trip to his house. I was afraid to tell him just how bad off I really was, that I wanted to move back in with him for a few months until I could save some money and get back on my feet.

 

I hadn’t seen Dad in more than a year, we lived so far apart. But he had always been my rock. When I was a little girl, I would crawl up on his lap and snuggle against his chest and he’d wrap his arms around me. “Don’t worry, baby girl, God will be with you,” he’d always say. Dad was a man of faith. A minister, in fact.

 

Riding through the pitch-dark along lonely Interstate 70 on day 4, somewhere in Kansas, I gazed at my sleeping children: Zachary, 4, and Blake, 2. I could use some of Dad’s faith right about now, I thought.

 

Read More: Along Came Santa – Guideposts