I lay in bed one sleepless night tossing and turning. For months now I’d been trying to figure out how to pay off a personal loan of three thousand dollars. The only thing I could come up with was selling my ’98 Volvo station wagon since I no longer needed it. But I hadn’t had any luck with a buyer.
Now here it was past midnight and I knew I wasn’t going to sleep a wink, what with worrying. Lord, I begged, please help. I need to sell my car. But even prayer didn’t give me peace. I lay there wide awake, watching the time go by. Around 1:30 am my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID. “Anthony,” it read. That’s odd, I thought. He’s never called so late before. Anthony is a longtime friend who lives out of state. Why would he be calling me at such a late hour?
“Hello,” I answered.
“Hi, Elizabeth,” Anthony said. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m traveling through the area and would love to stop by and say hello for a few minutes.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m up.”
I headed out to my balcony to wait for Anthony. He pulled up in a large SUV, a far cry from the four-door sedan I was used to seeing him drive. “When did you get a new car?” I said after I hugged him and invited him in.
“Oh, it’s just a rental,” he said. “During a big storm a tree fell on my car and my insurance company is giving me some trouble with the claim.”
“That’s a shame,” I said.
“I just wish I knew someone I could buy a car from for a few thousand dollars, until I can get this insurance business sorted out.”
My jaw dropped. “I think I have just the car for you,” I said.
That night Anthony left with the title to a ‘98 Volvo and I had my three thousand dollars to cover the loan, and the peace I’d so desperately needed.
