Today, my name is celebrated in Sweden. July 20th is the Margareta day. My grandmother, Edit Andersson always celebrated our “name day.” She’s long gone; 50 years ago we said our final farewell on earth, but we will meet again in God’s heaven. The memory of my Dad’s mother brings a smile to my face.
I would be smiling more if I didn’t feel miserable! My immune system is low and I’ve got a summer cold. But it will pass!
I’ve had some busy and happy days. My grandson David spent a week with me. I wanted to take advantage of having my favorite boy, so blogging was put on the back-burner. We played some fun Rummikub games; he beat me most of the time. We had Bible reading and prayer together. He got back-rubs every evening. We went shopping for food (something he hates) but he was entertained looking for and marking off the things we had on our list.
The “cutest” thing was the Sunday we had our own church service. David wanted the “sermon” to be about Philip and the man from Ethiopia. I have pictures to go with that story. David sat up all his “dudes” (Star Wars figures) in a row so they could listen. It reminded me of my girls when they would arrange their dolls and preach to them. We had a good service. Jesus said that where two or three are gathered in His Name he is with them. What a happy memory, to worship the Lord together, just David and I!
On Thursday (last week) there was a big storm in Oklahoma. My daughter said she has not been so scared in her whole life as when the storm came by her house. The storm left them without electrical power and water. The summer heat in Oklahoma is fierce. The good news in midst of all the bad ones was that her children were with grandmothers. They were supposed to be picked up on Saturday.
My daughter came to Springfield on Saturday to pick up the children. David was with me and the girls were with their grandparents in California (no, not the west coast California). There is a California in Missouri! Their father stayed home to clean up after the storm.
The stay here turned out to be until Tuesday afternoon. As soon as they had word that the electricity was back on at home, they headed out. And I was left with myself and the “summer cold.”
I had BIG plans for this week. Fifty years ago I started publishing my stories for children This seemed the perfect week to celebrate. My Margareta name is used in Spanish for the take-home paper La Perlita.
Margareta (Margaret) in Spanish is Margarita. Margarita means “pearl,” which was the name I chose for the magazine: La Perlita. I didn’t know at the time how well the names combine.
La Perlita con Tía Margarita = The Little Pearl with Auntie Margaret
Now I’m known far and wide with my Margarita name. My Spanish web site is: hermanamargarita.com
Praise God with me for the privilege of reaching children across the globe. Last time I counted, my stories are going to at least 64 countries. Some 2000 people are subscribed to my Club Perlita blogs.
My big celebration will have to wait until I feel better. No other celebration is needed than praise and thanks to God. He is worthy of all the glory. I’m only his maidservant, just happy to be able to share stories.
FOR ENGLISH: Free Resources Facilitator
Let me now share one of the missionary stories with you. It’s from 1951, when Dad got his first car and his driver’s license. My friend Nancy Crowson translated the story.
A Miracle Trip in the Model-A Ford
When I was a child and lived in Chile, my father bought a Model-A. Dad could not drive but an employee of the city hardware store offered to teach him. This was very exciting for us! Mom, my sisters and I went with Dad. We would sit in the backseat, while he received his training. After a couple of days of driving lessons, Dad went to the traffic inspector and told him he wanted to get a driver’s license.
“Come to my house this evening,” said the inspector.
Dad drove the Model-A Ford to the inspector’s home, but this time without Mom, my sisters and I. The inspector, who could not drive and who walked with a cane, sat in the passenger seat. Dad asked what he would like him to do. Should they follow the street leading outside the city?
“All right,” said the inspector.
They drove a little ways and then Dad asked if they could return to the city.
“All right,” said the inspector.
Dad backed off the road to turn around. When he tried to get back onto the road, the car wouldn’t move.
Both men got out of the car to investigate… maybe there was a rock that was holding them back. But there was no rock.
Then Dad remembered something! He climbed back into the car and began to drive again. The inspector, sitting beside him, asked what had happened.
“I forgot to release the emergency brake!” replied Dad.
“Now, why didn’t I think of that!” said the inspector.
They returned to the city and the inspector told Dad to stop the car. Then he told him to back up. Dad backed up a little ways and the inspector said, “It’s okay. We’re going to the office to get your license.”
That’s how easy it was to get a driver’s license in Traiguén, Chile in 1951.
“SPIT… IN THE NAME OF THE LORD”
The Model-A Ford became very useful in preaching the gospel. Dad could take his entire family when he traveled to the villages to preach. Mom would play the guitar and sing.
After Traiguén, we moved to Osorno. One Sunday we went with Dad to do a service in Purrehuin. The service was in the morning because Dad had to preach in Osorno that night. On our way home, we had a flat tire.
Dad took off the wheel and started to fix the tire. There was a large hole in the inner tube. A priest who lived nearby gave Dad a patch. He fitted the patch, but it did not completely plug the hole. That was the only patch he had! There was no hope to fix the tire and make it home before the evening service!
“Spit on the patch and put it on in the name of Jesus!” Mom said, believing that Jesus would help them.
“That is so dumb!” Dad replied. But to satisfy her, he spat on the patch and put it on the hole. Then he pumped air into the tire, and it worked! The tire filled with air and Dad could put the wheel back on the car to continue our journey.
The Model-A Ford chugged along obediently, but as soon as we got home we heard a hissing sound. Ptsssss… and all the air was gone again!
The next day Dad took the tire to a repair shop to get it fixed. Then we continued to preach in the villages, until the Model-A Ford burned in a fire. But that’s a story I’ll tell you another day!
God cares for us. When we think we have impossible situations, God can come to our rescue. There is nothing too hard for Him!
Greetings from Kerstin MARGARETA
To print the story: A miracle trip in the Model A Ford