We needed a miracle today. Our last dollar would be spent at the gas pump, and there are still seventeen days to go until my Social Security check hits our bank account via direct deposit. Did I mention we needed a miracle?

The gas pump, in fact, was far from the only financial challenge facing us when the sun came up. The refrigerator in our camp trailer went kaflooey when we moved onto this beautiful desert acreage near the Mexican border in southeastern Arizona.  Were it not for the need to make a living, desert photography could be a full time avocation.  Still, the blown-up fridge presents a challenge.  Our only form of refrigeration is a Coleman cooler with a ten pound block of ice to keep the grape jam and mayonnaise from spoiling.

So we needed an ice miracle as well as a gas pump miracle.

Food. Yeah, forgot food. We've been living on bread and canned meat with a can of beans to make a well rounded meal (so to speak), but we were out of bread. Oh, right, we were also out of meat. Um, and down to one can of beans I'd been avoiding, saving it for Pam.

Forget the fruit cocktail I like as a midnight snack while writing Hubs; extras like that might as well be lobster tail or ribeye steak for the time being.

Thankfully, one miracle popped up as soon as I checked our banking online. Our satellite internet provider had pulled its monthly payment out of our account but had taken fourteen dollars less than I'd planned for. That meant I would be able to use my debit card at the gas pump rather than having to pay inside. Hate having to pay inside. Makes me feel like a loser every time.

Before I headed out, Pam produced a second miracle: A $10 roll of quarters plus another $8 in loose quarters. No, she hadn't been holding out; she just searched with enough determination today that she found a little stash of cash that was waiting for the right moment. Okay. Debit card for the gas pump and enough for a few cans of beans. Gonna be a great day or what?

It's exactly two miles of dirt road from our place to Highway 92. I sang as I drove, song-talking to my spiritual guide, asking help in seeing what I was missing, asking help in any way he deemed appropriate.

Plus giving thanks for the obvious spiritual help we've had in getting this far, of course.

Not far from the highway, shortly after I'd wrapped up the song, the shadow of a great bird suddenly zoomed up to the right front side of my vehicle, flying precisely parallel to my line of travel. It might have been any of the great raptors we have around here; I choose to think of it as a large hawk just because that sounds so cool.

The great hawk (or raven or vulture or golden eagle) must have been flying awfully low. I did not see the actual bird, but the shadow was sharp and clear. Each pinion was outlined along the ground as if painted there by a master, crisp and clear and full of meaning: I was not alone, and I was not going in the wrong direction; The Force (if you will) was with me.

Yes, I gave thanks.

It's twenty miles to the Wal-Mart in Sierra Vista. Along the way, I stopped at the Post Office to pick up the Threat Mail.

About as expected, no miracle there, simple a notice that a utility company from Colorado was turning me over to collections for the $185.53 they say I still owe as our final bill. A bit of puffery from our cell phone company because our payment crossed in the mail. So? In order to be able to hit the gas pump at all in August we'll need to blow off the cell phones anyway. No big, just makes it that much harder for the collectors and that much easier for us until we have the wherewithal to pay 'em. Or not. Over the decades, I've had no money and I've had money. Both Pam and I prefer having money--be it miracle money or the ordinary (non-miracle?) kind, but we're functional in either mode. Hopefully, I won't have to consider filing my third bankruptcy in a couple of years when I once again become eligible, but trust me, folks, them thar creditors ain't our friends and in my case they ain't gettin' no virgin.

[Aside: Remember when gas was down to eighteen cents a gallon during the gas wars? If you were driving around 1961-1965 you do. Back then it hardly mattered if you drove a gas guzzler, passed up everything but the pump. Of course, we were young and dumb and thought crude jokes like ethyl being the town pump were actually funny, but you can't have everything....]

On to Wal-Mart, passing up McDonald's because I couldn't afford the $2.93 it would take for a $1 burger, $1 fries, and a senior coffee. Hadn't eaten, but that's okay; shucks, I was kind of bound up anyway. It's not like our current diet is balanced or anything.

Ten bottles of Dr. Thunder (78 cents each) and four loaves of Roman Meal (at $1.97 per), then on to Fry's Grocery. Ten cans of Fry's brand pork and beans (our personal gas pump), on sale at 59 cents a pop, four cans of their version of corned beef hash, $1.99 per can, and one can of Fry's substitute for good ol' Spam just to see if we can tolerate the stuff. If we can, well, it is cheaper than any other kind of mystery meat out there. Talk about needing a miracle.... And...away-y-y we go across the street to Food City.

[Aside: Ever wonder about the origin of a word? Okay, so to pump your fist in the air or pump up a basketball might make sense, but what about a lady's pumps? But I digress....]

With all of the cash we'd uncovered in the a.m. (a few small bills as well as all those quarters), the kitty was still draining fast. Three cans of Hormel Ham, Pam's favorite among the meats at the moment even though it can pump gas faster than the beans, and it was time to grab thirty pounds of ice (two blocks, one bag of cubes) and get out of Dodge.

With $2.37 left over. Miracle, miracle, wherefore art thou? You'll be needed on the morrow though I'm covered for the Now! By the time this batch of ice runs out in three days, there'll still be fourteen days till payday and no help in sight...and I have to hit the gas pump every three days as well or do without internet access, electric light, TV (antenna, thank you), or a fan to move the hot air around.

Which do you want, fool, God or gas? Hmmm, lemme think about this....

I turned into the Canyon General's parking lot and headed for my usual pump. As I was setting up the gas can for filling, a big man about my own age (he turned out to be 63; I'm 65) hailed me with,

"How's it going?"

"Pretty good," I replied, well aware that whining wasn't going to make anbody's day. He was driving a small red pickup, I noticed. I'd met my most dramatic miracle of the day, though I din't quite know it yet.

We talked a bit. He found out I was an unemployed truck driver. I found out he was a third party tester who taught people to pass the test for their CDL (Commercial Driver's License), so he knows the trucking industry inside out. He gave me the names of several local trucking companies who might be hiring, the types who don't list in the phone book and are so difficult to work for that they're pretty nearly always looking for people.

I knew I'd just experienced what might turn out to be the fattest miracle of the day, right there at the gas pump.

After all was said and done, the miracle man went on his way. I went into the store to spend that final $2.37 on soda-and-ice refills for our huge over-the-road type trucking cups (mine is 64 ounces).

While I was still at the soda fountain, here the miracle man came again. Threw up a hand like he wanted a high five, saying as he did so, "The next time it's on me!"

You're confused? I wasn't. Let me finish. I automatically threw up a hand to meet his, saying right on cue, "Sounds good to me!" Our palms slapped together...and when his hand dropped, the folded wad of bills stayed with me. The man had just given me money. I hadn't asked, but I totally understood. He saw someone in need, and he had no choice but to help out without anyone but the two of us knowing charity had just happened in front of their eyes. Pam and I have done the same for countless others along the way, and yes, that does include an incident or two after we moved to where we now live.

I just never expected it to come back at me the same way.

Yes, I said Thank you. Well, duh. I learned many years ago that refusing help when it's freely offered is not a good thing to do. Especially when it's freely offered and you really need the help!

When I had a chance to see what I'd been given without witnesses, I discovered he'd palmed me three five dollar bills. Now I can either put enough gas in the Subaru to go on a job interview (if one of those trucking companies sounds interested when I call them tomorrow), or I can hit the gas pump one more time a few days from now, pick up some more ice, and keep writing full time for six more straight days until everything runs out once again.

Frankly, I'm hoping for the latter. I'd rather write. But if the shadow of the hawk brought a miracle in the form of paid employment as a truck driver, I'd best not ignore that, either. Having her man bring home a steady paycheck again would unquestionably pump Pam up if nothing else. In the meantime, I will never again be able to gas up at that particular and already favorite pump without seeing it as a place where a miracle happened.