Like this:

   “Hello?” “Hi, is this Evan Dawson?” “Yes it is, may I ask who’s calling?” “This is so-and-so from Starbucks on Honore and Fruitville. I’m calling to let you know you’ve won something in our drawing last month.” “Sweet, thanks- I’ll be there as soon as I can!” As I hung up, I tried to think when in the world I would’ve entered a Starbucks contest. I hadn’t really drank Starbucks coffee since I found out how much I spent a year on the famous burnt beans (astounding/depressing if you take the time to do the math). Then it hit me- before my men’s group started meeting at 6am in the bookstore where I work, we used to meet at the Starbucks located on the corner of the same shopping center. I had forgotten my store keys one day in April and we had to use the ol’ back-up spot. I had filled out a 3X5 card and dropped it in a bucket (I didn’t even look to see what it was for, but saw the other guys doing it and did the Lemming thing).

   I thanked God beforehand for the Starbucks giftcard I assumed would be waiting for me. This was perfect timing! I had planned on treating a local pastor, who frequented Starbucks more than an L.A. soccer mom, while we talked about a future mission trip opportunity. I strolled down to the corner, greeted the teenage girl behind the counter with a warm “Hi, my name’s Evan and I’m the big winner!”, and waited for her to hand over the keys to the register. With an awkward smile, she walked me over to a table covered by a  small army of Starbucks gift bags. ‘No biggie’, I thought- they certainly make enough money to afford numerous high-valued gift cards. As I opened the recycled gift bag, my heart sank and my face mimicked that of a young boy getting the ‘birds and the bees’ talk. I reached in and pulled out a neon orange, solar-powered flashlight. A neon orange, solar-powered flashlight?! I happened to be wearing cargo khakis, so I just placed the thing (which lights up w/o batteries right out of the box) in my thigh pocket and headed back to the bookstore…confused out of my gourd.

   Just about quittin’ time, as I was concentrated on the closing routine, the other employees (pretty much in unison) started stating their case as to why I couldn’t ride home on my scooter due to an oncoming storm.  ’Not in the mood’ was my mindset as I politely repeated “I’ll be fine” until I felt like a parrot. Eventually, despite the increased frequency in thunder claps, they relented and went their seperate ways. Mounting my trusty steed, I looked up to view the inevitable- I would probably get caught in a downpour. Lovely.

   All the way home I could see black death in the direction I was heading. Coming up to the intersection of my final two-mile stretch, I had to pull over and take in the scene. I could see the slanting rain lines to my right and left, and up ahead looked like a scene right out of the movie Twister. I took my phone out to try and capture the panoramic onslaught…’Out of memory’. With the wind picking up, I decided arguing with my cell was foolish, and said this simple prayer instead, “Father, please let me make it home safe and dry”. To my surprise (and somewhat my hilarity considering the situation), God answered, “I will protect you”. I took that by faith to mean I would miss the rain completely, and decided to full-throttle it (which isn’t that epic on a scooter with a top speed of 50 mph). I couldn’t help yelling at the wind during that final stretch. Not really toward the storm in a taunting manner, but like a warrior going into a battle he knew he would win.

    I made it home in the nick of time (literally, there were drops falling the second I turned off the engine), thanked God, opened the garage door and put my stallion up for the night. As I hit the garage door button (after deciding not to walk back outside and around to the front door), I noticed something that never happens (and trust me when I say never because my OCD-like routine forbids certain things)- the door from the garage to the house was locked! As the never-been-greased door is grinding down, I frantically search for my house keys. I pull them out just before the garage fades to black, not giving me the time to locate the right key for the lock- which I also can’t see at this point. Just then, in a voice I’m positive was fighting back laughter, God whispers, “Use the neon orange, solar-powered flashlight“. Good one God

   I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought about this, but God could keep you rolling on the floor with laughter until you needed medical attention if He so desired. Seriously! He created you, therefore knows your exact sense of humor. Indeed, we serve a holy and hilarious God.

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