Our God is a Mountain Mover, People. Here’s my personal testimony to that effect. Read Part First Here.
We’d been on the homestead for about two months now. We were still living in the tipi (it hadn’t blown away yet), while Dad and my brothers were busy every day learning how to get the horse to haul logs out of the woods with which to build our cabin.
One afternoon on a sunny day toward the end of May, we heard the sound of an engine – an airplane engine - quite low – as if it was going to land! We ran out of the trees and into the meadow, scanning the horizon for the aircraft we were sure was about to ditch in our very back yard. And then we spotted it – coming out of the North East, low over the trees, a small, white plane with red stripes. It descended further as it cleared the trees and passed right over our heads!
And then it waved.
“They’ve found us!” We joked. Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, and someone had obviously sent a spy plane to search us out. We laughed, and wondered who the apparently friendly pilot could be, and how he had known that this little meadow was populated. The plane circled us a few more times, and waved its wings once more before zooming off over the next hill.
A few weeks later we enjoyed what to us, living without a phone and new to the area, was a regular occurrence – a random, surprise visit from a stranger. It was a man – looked to be in his mid 40′s (turns out he was only 13 – he was born on Leap Day) with the friendliest face and kindest eyes you’ve ever seen. Made you wanna smile just looking at him. And smile we did when we found out he was a mutual friend of an old acquaintance of our parents from 15 years ago – and, he owned a little white airplane with a red stripe.
Turns out that Tom (the pilot) had got a phone call from “R.K.” – an old friend of my parents from when they lived in Florida – asking him if he would come and check up on us. R.K. had heard about our apparent attempt to drop off the face of the earth, and was concerned. So, being the well-connected individual that she was, she called up a few of her friends that lived in Upstate NY and asked them to go see if the Baumans were still alive. Tom was one of those friends, and he only lived about an hour away. So one day, on a good day for flying, he took his plane in a southeasterly direction, following landmarks and rivers till he spotted a circle of white canvas – the tipi – and knew he had found the weird family R.K. was so concerned about.
Tom was a great guy – and it was neat, ’cause he was a believer, too. My parents enjoyed swapping memories of their mutual friend and bits of each others life stories. After that visit, the sight of the little red and white plane was to become a regular occurrence over the next few years, and we enjoyed the occasional visit with Tom and his wife.
Now, I know what you’re thinking – what does Tom have to do with anything? I thought Jeremy was going to be the one flying the plane!
Here’s the thing — Tom and his airplane were a pebble. One of the people or circumstances God used to eventually connect me with my future husband. It wasn’t till several years after I was married that I realized how all these little details and random acquaintances had lined up to bring Jeremy and I together. I had no idea when that plane flew over or when I met Tom, that this was the start of a journey. Sometimes you don’t know when you’re in the middle of a miracle until after it has occurred.