God Answers Prayer - Sometimes Before You Pray

It was early in the summer of 1974 - A Sunday.  Mark and Sharon had just left for their first summer camp, and Judy, Barbara and I were still standing outside the church in Oak Park, Illinois.  One of the pastors came over to us and asked if we knew of anybody who could deliver a pallet of Spanish Bibles to the Spanish World Gospel Mission in Winona Lake, Indiana.  It would be an overnight trip, and it would be best if whoever went could leave that afternoon to return the next day.  The pallet of Bibles would easily fit in the church minibus.

We agreed that we could do it if my boss could let me off from work on Monday.  I was a student at the Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, and was working part-time for Buildings and Grounds. We went home, and I called my supervisor.  He gave his OK, so, we called a fellow married student in Winona Lake to arrange to spend the night with them, and packed a few items for an overnight road trip.

Then we went back to the church, loaded the Bibles in the minibus, and the three of us started off.  We arrived at the Spanish World Gospel Mission headquarters at about 10:00 that Sunday night.  One of the men there came out and helped us to unload the Bibles and stack them on the floor in the mission headquarters.

After we had unloaded all of the Bibles, this gentleman invited us to have breakfast with them in the morning.  He told us that the head and founder of the mission, Reverend Florent Toirac, was in Wisconsin speaking at some Churches, and would be back late that night.  He said that Reverend Toirac would want to meet us and visit over breakfast.  So we agreed, and left for our friend's home to get some sleep.

The next morning, we returned to the headquarters and met Reverend Toirac.  During breakfast, he told us an amazing story – a story in which we had unknowingly played a part in God answering a prayer - even before it was prayed.

Reverend Toirac told us that the previous evening, he had been speaking at a church in Racine, Wisconsin.  When he was finished, the pastor of that church had given him an envelope, which he said contained a special offering that the church had taken to help support the work of the Spanish World Gospel Mission.  Reverend Toirac put the envelope in his pocket, eventually said his goodbyes, and got in his car.  Before driving away, he was prompted to open the envelope.  Inside there was a check.  As Reverend Toirac looked at the check, he recognized that the amount of the check was exactly what he needed to pay for some Bibles that he had ordered.

Reverend Toirac was so excited about God's provision that he was praising God all the way from Racine, down through Chicago, and across to Winona lake.  As I recall, Reverend Toirac told us that he needed those Bibles in time to be able to mail them in response to requests from listeners to a radio broadcast that had already been scheduled.  And God had miraculously provided the funds to pay for those Bibles - what a wonderful God.

Now, as he drove back to Winona Lake, he prayed to God, asking Him to provide a way to have these Bibles delivered to his office.

A little after midnight, that Sunday night, as Reverend Toirac related to us over breakfast the next morning, he arrived back at the Spanish World Gospel Mission headquarters, parked his car, got out, walked into the building, and turned on the light – what did he see?  – – The pallet full of Bibles about which he had been praying to God!

We have a wonderful and faithful God.  He gave our family the privilege of seeing first-hand that He is a God who can answer prayer even before we ask.

Blessed are You, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, Creator and Savior.  For you alone are worthy to receive all glory and honor and praise.

Airport Security (??) - Pre 9-11

In the late 1980s, I had flown from San Francisco to Eureka to spend a week auditing PG&E's Humboldt Bay Nuclear Power Plant, which was in the process of being decommissioned.  The audit was over, and it was time to fly back home.

At the airport, I was standing in a short line waiting for my turn to go through the metal detector and into the waiting room.  The airport for the Eureka area was quite small (I think there were probably only two, maybe three, boarding gates), and back then we waited at the gate on ground level and boarded our plane by simply walking out across the apron to the waiting plane and up some portable steps - The plane itself was like a flying shoebox.

Anyway - – I was in line behind this long-haired hippy-kind-of-guy who was wearing a camouflaged military field jacket.

Apparently the goal for the security people that day was to only let people through the metal detector and into the waiting area IF they could pass through the system WITHOUT setting of the alarm.  (I don't recall that there was any x-ray machine at that time - just a couple of security people and a metal detector next to a conveyor belt that you were supposed to put your luggage on.)

So, this guy in front of me starts through the detector – – and the alarm goes off(?).  "Whoa there!  It must have been your belt buckle."  So he pulls his belt out of his trousers and puts it on the conveyor belt. 

He steps into the metal detector again and the alarm goes off a second time (??).  "Hmm - must be your wrist watch.  Put it on the conveyor with your belt please."

Attempt #3 - Yet another alarm (???).  "Well - - ?? – - Maybe it's something in your jacket.  Please put your jacket on the conveyor belt."

4th attempt – while we all (actually its only a 24 passenger plane at the most that we're trying to get on) wait patiently for the security people to do their job – I naively thought they were protecting us by keeping anyone from taking a gun (I guess) on the airplane.

Hey - Three cheers - No alarm!  The guy in front of me has now successfully passed through the metal detector – and without setting off an alarm, which, as I said, was apparently the goal.  Because, the next thing the security guard does is hand this guy his belt, his watch and . . . his jacket.  Then he says, "Hmmm . . . must have been something in your jacket."  –  "Next please!" - – – My turn.

Safe and secure  –  Have a nice flight!  Well, I did make it back to San Francisco.

1968 - L. A. International Airport

In the spring of 1968, I had just been promoted to First Class Petty Officer.  I was an Electronic Technician in the U.S. Navy, and I was being transferred from sea duty on my first ship, the USS Markab (AR 23), to a tour of shore duty.  The Markab was in Long Beach at that time, and I was at the L.A. International Airport waiting to catch a plane to Oakland.

We lived in Castro Valley, and my ship's home port was in Alameda – at the Alameda Naval Air Station.  I was taking 30 days leave before flying with Judy and our son Mark to Hawaii where we would live for the next almost 3 years.

After I had checked in for my flight, I had several hours to kill before my plane took off.  I was wandering around the airport, and thought it would be really interesting if I could get a tour of the control tower.  If I asked, the worst that could happen was that they would say "no".  But they might say "yes".

It wasn't hard to find the tower.  After all, it's the tallest building at the airport.  I went into the receptionist's area at the foot of the tower, and asked if it might be possible to go up to the "cab" and see what it is like.  I was in uniform, and told the lady that I worked in electronics and was waiting for my flight.  She said she would call up and ask the supervisor if it was possible for me to go up.  To my surprise, he said yes, and I took an elevator to the very top of the tower.

The air traffic control tower when I was there in 1968 was tall and impressive, but I could not find a picture of it.  This is the newer control tower.

When I stepped out of the elevator, I could see all around the airport.  What a view!  Several people were manning stations where they were talking with pilots who were either taking off, taxying on the ground, or coming in for a landing.  I got to spend about 30 or 40 minutes up there.  It was absolutely fascinating to watch the inner workings of a major airport.

After I had been up in this part of the control tower for a while, the supervisor asked if I would like to go down to Area Control Center on the floor below.  No windows here - This is where air traffic controllers track, coordinate, and communicate with all of the planes flying in the air space all around southern California.  

When a plane approaches Los Angeles to land, a controller in this room coordinates the plane's approach until it reaches a certain distance from the airport.  Then he "hands the pilot off" to a controller in the "cab" upstairs to coordinate the landing.  Or, when a plane takes off, the controller upstairs "hands off" the plane to a controller on this floor, who then coordinates the plane's flight until it is time to "hand off" the plane to the next Area Control Center.  The Los Angeles Center will "hand off" planes to (or receive planes from) either Oakland, Salt Lake City, Denver, or Albuquerque Center.

[It is my understanding that the Los Angeles Area Control Center (En Route Center) is not actually in the tower at the airport anymore, but is actually located in Palmdale, CA.]

I spent a very interesting half hour or so in this large windowless room, which was filled with radar screens manned by a team of air traffic controllers, whose job is to keep everything coordinated and safe in that very large and complex 3-dimensional world of air traffic.

Needless to say, this was an experience I really enjoyed.  As I was writing about this, I was amazed to realize how much things have changed since the 9-11 attack on our country.  Today, the average person like me, walking in off the street, would never be allowed up in a control tower - especially at a place like LA International.

                

The Period Costume

Then there was the actress who played the part of a terrible writer who had been thrown in jail for run-on sentences.  She had served her term in jail and finally was being released at the end of her sentence.  The script called for a period costume.