This story begins .here.
I gave that good, nice taxi driver some cash and my new, chic jacket as payment & compliments and won’t take any change back from him.
But now I had no cash to buy food, return to Amman, spend a night and reach Airport. I was trapped in Jordan.
God told me to eat one large pomegranate I had bought near Dead Sea for dinner and keep the other two for next day’s lunch and dinner. God, they were huge.
He then helped me find a currency dealer who bought some leftover Pakistani Rupees from me.
I found a bus station nearby who dropped me in Jordan for mere 4 Dinars. That freaky first taxi driver had charged me 70 Dinars for the same trip plus taking my 200 Dinars’ camera.
Once in Amman, God found me a hostel where I shared a room with 3 secret service agents as the king was receiving some special foreign delegates and Amman was replete with secret agents.
In the morning, God helped me find a stationary shop open in the early hours who bought my new pocket calculator for 4 Dinars. The bus to airport charged me 3 Dinars and thus, I reached airport on time and with 1 Dinar still left on me.
He even helped me find refrigerators to keep fresh the Pakistani delicious sweets I had bought for my sisters.
Now Jesus Christ was in trouble.
For all His love & care, I had no way to thank God, a terrible sin on the part of me and Jesus. His fearsome, perfectionist Father was going to judge us!
At the airport, a beautiful nymph asked me to check-in part of her luggage on my ticket. I used to travel light with two small carry-on bags.
She was married and her husband was standing small, leaving his wife handle his troubles, in which he had miserably failed.
Her husband was a poor teacher in Saudi Arabia and couldn’t afford extra charges for extra luggage.
The girl at the counter warned me that any drugs found in those suitcases were also going to be considered my property.
She told me trafficking in drugs carried a capital punishment in Saudi Arabia.
The usual legal blah blah blah.
At Jeddah airport, I waited for her suitcases, carried them off the crazy fast conveyer belts, got them cleared from bloody Saudi customs and handed them over to her.
Jesus had found me a way to thank God.
But I felt a strange, excruciating pain.
I cried in great agony “God, were these suitcases heavy!”
P.S. This blog is trying to solve a riddle. I’m revealing both the riddle and its solution one piece at a time.
And I’m not finished revealing myself.
Hence, the story continues. . . here.