In June 1998, on our way from the church to Calgary Airport, we were talking together about God’s treatment with us. Merrily, the daughter said to her old mother, “Tell father the story of your boy friend.”
The mother told me the following story smilingly.
Early in the morning, I was on my way home in Calgary. I crossed the way. I didn’t see the threshold of the pavement. Since I was walking fast, I fell on the ground. I looked around but found no one to help me rise. Suddenly, a splendid car stopped and a rich lady came out of it but unable to help. After few minutes, another car stopped and a man came out of it and helpped me. He was very kind and asked me, “Are you ok?”
I thanked him saying, “You look familiar.”
“I’m the Mayor” He said simply.
After making sure that I am ok being near my house, he took his car and went. I then sent him a card thanking him.
The lady did not forget what the mayor of Calgary made for her.
The story was engraved in her thoughts.
You descended to me, o King of Kings.
Leaving the fiery cherubic chariot.
You bowed down to my earth and carried me on your shoulders,
You healed my wounds with the wounds of your love.
You led me, with your Holy Spirit, to the open gates of Heaven
And took me to my eternal home.
May my heart kindle with thanks for you.
Long The Millions Destroyed
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