Miracle on Main Street, Pt. 2

Yesterday I told about two separate incidents that happened to me recently. You can read about them here, but now I would like to compare the two, to help you experience the emotion I took in, and the determinations I came to. The first incident, if you don't feel like reading, was when I found 40$ prepaid on the gas pump I pulled up to. The other incident occurred in the discovery of someone's personal pocket copy of "The Bread of Life / the gospel of John" stuck to my windshield, presumably in response to and evolutionist bumper sticker I have on my car. The point of comparison in these two events, is in the larger implications and in how they made me think. To cut to the chase, I feel as though I experienced the divine in one of these circumstances, and the miracle certainly wasn't in that gift of verse.

     No, instead I found god, so to speak, in the circumstance of finding my gas had been comped. It became apparent when I realized how the two matters moved me. I felt several distinct waves of disgust involved with the the gospel left for me. The first was at the point of discovery. At first I thought "Ticket!" and all the worry that goes with it. After the realization of it's evangelical nature and intent, I felt the usual annoyance I always go through when someone tries to tell me their way of thinking is superior. The straw that broke the camel's back, though, was when I realized the targeted and personal nature of the gift. I was the only one chosen to receive this bit of preaching, presumably because of a my "Darwin Fish" car decal, and the 'giver' pointedly gave something he bought for himself to me. He told himself "this guy needs this more than me," or, in another way, "I'm better than this guy because of this little booklet, maybe if he reads it, he's be as good a person as I am!" Sorry, pamphlet-droppers, I resent the blanket assumption that you are right and I am wrong.

     The feelings stirred up, however, from the dingy gas station in the inner city, and the anonymous charity I experienced, seem somehow holy. It came to me with no imperative, to expectation, and only as much guilt as I put on myself. In the wake of the blessing of 40$ worth of gas, I have changed my plans for the future. I have since vowed to pay the gas forward, when I have the financial ability, manyfold. When I arrived to 40$ in free gas, I felt special and lucky, as well as humbled and owing. I felt as though something very wonderful had happened, and that I had to somehow pay my fair price for it, to somehow return those good feelings to the universe in kind, since I cannot repay the person who donated my gas. What truer definition of a miracle can you ask for?

Miracle on Main Street, Pt. 1

     Recently I pulled my car into a local gas station, a wayward Delta Sonic on East Main St. near downtown Rochester. I was dumbfounded when I got to the pump and saw that $40 had been prepaid into the pump. I tried the "cancel" button and it told me to see the cashier. I have something of social anxiety, and not being in the best of neighborhoods, I decided to use the prepaid dollars and avoid this unique and awkward interaction. Watching over my shoulder for someone to come marching up demanding I return stolen money, I fervently filled up and fled furtively. Through the rest of my commute, and sporadically for days after, my thoughts were consumed with the mysteriously personal, enigmatic bounty.

     I went over every possibility in my head. Perhaps the money should have gone to another pump, and someone stormed into the gas station demanding to know where their money had gone, and the gas station would probably have to eat the loss created by a careless attendant, or a customer who misspoke. On the other hand, just maybe, in an act reminiscent of the coffee shop phenomena seen around the country, the previous gas purchaser had paid for my gas in advance. Maybe the attendant, in a fit of angelic inspiration, decided to give the company's gas away or even put his own money into the register for me. I don't know. It's an absolute secret to me. Additionally, the person who put up their 40$ likewise does not know what his money did.

     I told you that story to tell you this one. I have a decal on my car, that is mocking "Jesus" fish decals. It is a fish with feet that says "Darwin," advertising my choice of belief in evolution. The other day when I walked out to my vehicle after working an almost 11-hour shift, someone had stuck "Bread of Life/The gospel of John" under my wiper. This bit of scripture was obviously worn; corners were bent and it was permanently curved from time spent in a pocket. It wasn't a mass handout from a church to all the lost souls in the parking lot, it was someone's personal copy they told themself I needed. It made me seethe. Some self-righteous, holier-than-thou demigod decided that he or she couldn't let me live with my bumper sticker without reaching out to me. I'm sure they ran home, too, and bragged to their significant other, or their parent, or their church buddy about the soul they hoped to  save and the life they tried to affect. I admit, sometimes I feel like I see signs, little reminders that might, in the right interpretation have larger implications. Check back tomorrow, and I will share with you the signs I see in these two incidents.