Free God Drives a Tow Truck by Vicky Kaseorg Page B

grabbing the car keys. I ricocheted out the door, and hurried to the local Goodwill Store. Fortunately, my luck had not completely given out, and I found a large mirror. I raced home with it. I knew it would have been best to find studs in the wall to anchor the hanging nail, but I also knew that any minute my husband would be home. I hurriedly nailed the mirror to the wall over the hole. I made sure the bottom edge of it dipped a little below the top of the dresser. Then, inch by inch, I rocked the dresser back against the wall. I raced for the vacuum, and quickly sucked up the final dust of evidence. As I wiped the sweat from my face and put away the vacuum, Arvo came home. He found me in the baby room, surveying my work with a slightly worried look on my face.
    “Hi honey,” he said, “What are you doing?”
    “Oh not much,” I answered, “Just a little rearranging.”
    He looked at the mirror.
    “Is that new?”
    “Yes, do you like it?”
    “Sure,” he answered, “Are you sure you should have hung it so low?”
    “This is the safest place for it,” I said quickly, “The baby can’t grab the bottom of it and break it. Wouldn’t want seven years of bad luck…”
    We both looked at the mirror and dresser.
    “How was your day?” I said, “Bet you’re starved. I’ll go see what I can do about dinner.” I hurried away.
     
    I am somewhat ashamed to admit that it was not until many years later that I finally confessed to my crime. When we were packing our possessions for our impending move to North Carolina, Arvo removed the mirror from the wall.
    “Vicky?” he called. I came in, my hands filled with kitchen glasses I was wrapping in newspaper.
    “What is that?” asked Arvo, pointing at the Buttocks Hole.
    I am sure I blushed, and then I laughed. I had forgotten all about the hole in the wall. I told him the story and he laughed too. He repaired the wall, shaking his head.
    Upon hearing the story, my cousin, Carol, noted how like sin my hole in the wall was. We can try to conceal it, to hide it, to disguise it, but eventually, it will be exposed. Sin, like my hole, is conspicuously shaped like the worst part of us. It never goes away on its own, no matter how well we hide it. It will lurk there until we have the courage to confront it, and fix it once and for all- no ifs, ands, or butts.

 
     
     
    Chapter Fourteen
    Specificity and Prayer
     
     
    Psalm 77: 1-3
    1 I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. 2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;  at night I stretched out untiring hands, and I would not be comforted.   3 I remembered you, God, and I groaned; I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Some people come to faith through persuasive pastors, ardent fellow believers, miracles, or riveting speeches. I came to faith partially through the picture of a swirl of hair behind the ear of a seven month old baby in utero. When my first son was percolating inside me, I spent many hours poring over pictures of what babies looked like at the various stages of development. They all humbled and amazed me, but one reduced me to tears every time I looked at it. I still am unsure why, but a photograph of a baby in the womb with a close-up of the pattern of hair behind his ears always evoked a swell of wonder and brimming tears. I was not yet a believer, though seeking evidence of God, and the first proof to me that there had to be a God was that swirl of hair. The attention to detail of this most magnificent of creation was the argument that finally put me over the top.
    Five months after Anders was born, I professed my faith. That day is seared in my memory. Before I spoke the words, I felt talons gripping my heart and the pain was overwhelming. I was sure I was having a heart attack, though I was only 29 years old and in excellent health. As I spoke a prayer of faith out loud, I felt the talons ripping inside of me, losing their grip, and then the pain