An Angel by the Campfire

Michael Ansted and his wife had moved to a small country town by the sea in New Zealand, where they built a home for them and their six children (they have seven now). “We shared twenty-eight acres with another family so there was plenty of space,” he says. “One evening our children decided to camp out under some pines about two hundred yards from the house.” The adults went down and after clearing the ground, they lit a small fire to bake potatoes. “We ate, and sang a few songs,” Michael recalls. “Then we doused the fire, and made sure it was out.”

Michael was glad that the children enjoyed some innocent fun that evening, because the next morning they had to make a somber journey. “A friend’s six-year-old daughter had died in a tent fire a few days before, and we were all going to the funeral,” he explains. The following morning they set out on the twenty-mile trip, bouncing over rutted country roads. By the time they had gone three miles, however, Michael was beginning to feel…odd. “I felt prodded to turn around, and go home,” he says. “I paid no attention to it—-we had to be at the funeral!---but the urge became stronger, and eventually I just couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He told his wife what he was feeling.

“I think you should turn back,” she told him.

“But it’s bizarre—there’s no reason…” he argued.

“Maybe not,” she pointed out, “but perhaps it’s better to be safe.” She and he had both learned over the years that God works in mysterious ways.

Safe! They were safe NOW, Michael told himself. But he turned the car around and started home. The children were perplexed and getting restless, and the extra five miles backtracking would probably make them late for the funeral. Yet his heart was pounding with the effort to control the unreasonable urge. Get home, get home... Finally, they pulled into the driveway. Michael hugged them all, turned the car keys over to his wife, and watched as they drove out again. Then he carefully checked the house and the yard. Everything normal. Everything fine. The strange urge was gone now, and he felt ridiculous. Perhaps he should take a nap.

Continued on page 2: Michael could hear the sound of crackling, twigs burning... »