Hi, this is Joni Eareckson Tada and the Summer Olympics opened yesterday.
It makes me think back 28 years ago when Los Angeles hosted the Summer Olympics, and me? I had but one burning desire: to see an Olympic torch runner. The newspaper said that 50 of them would be running pre-determined routes scattered across dozens of different locations all around Los Angeles.
I said to Ken, "Oh, Ken, isn't there some place we can go, park on some curbside, and watch a runner go by with the torch?" Ken is a wonderful husband, but he hates L.A. traffic. He can't stand the 101 freeway merging onto the 405 South. He loathes that crunch where the Hollywood freeway becomes the 10. He cringes if he has to be on the Harbor freeway at any time of day. He didn't like the idea of driving me to see the torch runner one bit. "Joni," he said, "It's just not going to happen." I sighed and, for the moment, let it go. But I kept praying because , who knew, maybe Ken would change his mind.
That Sunday evening we planned to drive into downtown L.A. to eat dinner at Ken's favorite hole-in-the-wall, the Far East Café in Little Tokyo. I had scanned the Sunday LA Times to see where the Olympic runner was going to be. The newspaper affirmed that the Olympic torch runner was going to be downtown. But still, Ken would not consider going early so we could see the runner. I didn't say anymore, but I did take the route map with me, hoping against hope we'd catch a glimpse of the man with the flame - but it didn't happen. Nevertheless, I told my husband, "I'm going to keep praying and ask the Lord to somehow, someway let me see that torch runner."
Well, after dinner, it was dark and heading back home, Ken took the Santa Monica freeway over to the 405. Meanwhile, I was still looking at the map on my lap. By the time we neared Sunset Blvd. on the 405, traffic ahead started to thicken. I glanced at my map: according to the schedule, a runner would have paralleled the freeway over six hours earlier. That's when we saw brake lights, lots and lots of brake lights. "Oh no," Ken groaned, "What's with all this traffic? The runner ran this stretch hours ago!" he said. And I'm thinking, "Oh no, he didn't. he's late and we are going to see him!"
Now I realize you probably don't know Los Angeles freeways, but for about 30 yards on the 405 north there's a side road that parallels the freeway for about 20 yards with just a chain link fence separating the two. And as our car chugged along in the slow lane, suddenly we came upon news trucks, motorcycles, helicopters and the Olympic torch runner running right p that 20 yard stretch next to the slow lane of the 405. We were the guy's pace car! I mean all I had to do was look over my shoulder. I could see him straining and sweating and the light of the torch illuminating his face. And we kept pace with him for those whole 20 yards until the road veered away from the freeway. "Ken, would you look at this?!" My husband couldn't believe his eyes. how we just "happened" to be in the slow lane of six lanes of traffic at the precise instant when the flame-bearer (six hours late) was running that little stretch, well, it was impossible. Yet my Father in heaven heard my wistful prayer, his daughter, and he brought it all to pass. That was back in 1984, and to this day whenever Ken goes fly-fishing, he asks me to pray he'll get fish! He always asks the lady in the wheelchair to pray. In closing, Psalm 10:17 says, "You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry." May those be encouraging words for you today, no matter what you ask of the Lord.
© Joni and Friends
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