That Friday in April 2006, a typical nor’easter was still blowing through southern Maine where Poochie, my aging cock-a-poo, and I lived. Our home was near the coast, but we were animal-sitting for the conference evangelist and his wife that stormy night. The drive normally took us about an hour into western Maine where the foothills of New Hampshire’s White Mountains are located.

Just a little note about Maine and its trees: known as The Pine Tree State, it is just as beautiful in the fall as the other northern New England states with variously hewed maples and other deciduous trees. At 89% forest coverage, statistically, Maine has more trees per square mile than any of the other United States.

Having been a birder since 1995, I loved the trees because that meant more birds to find and identify—coastal birds, warblers in May, raptors, thrushes, orioles, even mockingbirds and robins in January. The home where we were going offered quite a buffet for the birds, so we saw many of them, even in the snow-laden hills.

After finishing that day’s duties, Poochie and I set out to make the drive. While the rain had let up some, the wind was still blustery. The first part of our journey took us along the Saco River. About 20 or so minutes into the drive, we were forced to come to a dead stop. A mammoth maple had fallen, completely blocking the road.

Even though there was no other vehicle within sight, out of the misty rain stepped a police officer. We were in the middle of nowhere, no houses, no traffic, no moose (fortunately), but there was help. He asked where we were going, and he pointed us down a road I had never traveled.

We carefully made our way in the direction he had indicated. The new roads did slow us down some because it was out of our way. As we drove into the night, the darkness deepened, but we managed to stop for the next fallen tree. I had no idea where we were. I could see some homes in the distance, and I also heard some traffic not far off. Again, another police officer was present to reroute us to the next phase of our journey.

We turned and continued on our excursion. Near the end of our drive, we were back in familiar territory, and we began the ascent of the final steep hill to our destination. One more fallen tree blocked our path. No police officer was present because this time I knew where we were, and I knew how to approach the hill from a different angle. After nearly two hours of driving through the gale, we arrived safely atop Ward’s Hill. Sabbath morning we were greeted with a view of Mount Washington, the tallest peak in New England.

I bowed before the Lord with thanksgiving for surely we had seen Him at work in a Philippians 4:19 miracle: “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” When we did not know our way, He supplied the help we needed. When we knew our way, we knew we could depend on the angels for safe arrival.

Call to Action

The next time you are wandering in a wilderness set before you, will you trust God to furnish your need at every turn of the path?

All scripture taken from the King James Version.

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