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    September 16, 2018

    The pawn shop is liquidating everything. I’ve topped off the Landcruiser and I’m curious about the musical instruments. I don’t need another guitar but the sign in the window is beckoning. I feel a vague tug, as if I’m being nudged to check it out. 


    “Lord, if you want me to go over, give me a break in traffic so I can cross the road without waiting.”


    I exit the petrol station and pull up to the stop sign. I glance both ways across the normally busy street. Not a car in sight. “Well, I’ll be darned,” I jam it into first gear and shoot across the lanes.


    The shop is cluttered and quiet. The guitars are hanging on a rack In the back. I quickly settle on a Yamaha steel string. It has a nice action and the price is reasonable. The owner engages me in a conversation about Harley Davidsons. I pay him and take my prize home.


    I see it as a nice companion to my classical guitar. I post something about it on Facebook and a friend from Nepal replies that he doesn’t even have one guitar.  


    It just so happens I’ve got a teaching gig in Nepal the first week of July. I look over at the guitar and feel a tinge of possession. At first I resist, not wanting to part with my new toy. 


    Finally, I pop the question. “Lord, do you want me to take the guitar to Amar in Nepal?” 


    “Yes. Give the guitar to Amar.”


    Love and blessings,



    Mark 10: 21



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