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Perfect Planning

R. Atkins

Hashem takes care of the minutest details of our lives, with precision and caring (something no GPS can match!). Real-life stories of Hashem’s loving guidance

Wednesday, July 05, 2017

 Mishpacha image

 

C

ar Conundrum

My husband Shimon Marks* and I try hard to run our business affairs honestly, based on the words in Mishlei that “a trustworthy man will have many blessings.” It’s definitely paid off; we started out in debt and are now millionaires. What’s interesting is that we’ve seen blessing not just in business but in relatively minor things, too. It’s like Hashem makes absolutely sure we won’t lose out financially, no matter what.

The story of the smashed-up car is a case in point. I was at home one day when I heard a car driving down the road, sounding faster and more erratic than normal. Suddenly there was a loud crash. I rushed to the window, only to see that my Nissan Saloon, which had been parked outside the house, had been hit. The driver had shot off at high speed and vanished.

My car had to be taken to a garage for repairs. There was no way to track down the culprit, and to make things worse, our car insurance didn’t cover damage caused by another vehicle.

Then our next-door neighbor Billy, a retired man, saw the smashed glass on the road and asked us what happened. We explained that someone had damaged our vehicle in a hit-and-run, and that there were no eyewitnesses.

To our surprise, he replied confidently, “Well, that doesn’t matter. I can tell you what kind of car hit yours.” He bent down, and picked up a small piece of red metal. “This comes from a Ford,” he declared, naming the exact model and year of registration.

“How do you know?” we asked skeptically.

“I used to work for Ford Motors as their head mechanic,” he explained. “I know their cars inside out. I’ll look out for this particular vehicle when I drive around.”

We thanked him, but held out little hope that anything would come of it.

Three days later, Billy handed my husband a piece of paper with an address.

“That’s your guy,” he grinned. “I was driving down Main Street when I saw him in front of me. His car was damaged exactly where I expected. I followed him home.”

My husband got a tall, muscular friend to accompany him to the address, just a few streets away, and they rang the guy’s doorbell.

He was so shocked he’d been found that he figured my husband and his friend must work for the police. The driver of the red Ford paid for all the repairs to our car, and the garage bill read, “PAID IN FULL.”

Source: Gitty Marks* (*name changed) (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 667)

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