The other day, I made a special trip to Trader Joe’s to buy apple cider donuts. My daughter said they were a must try. I had to act fast—seasonal items, as the product name suggested, don’t wait around for procrastinators and loafers. I cruised up and down every aisle twice. No donuts. Two very friendly Trader Joe’s clerks offered to help and looked more disappointed than I did when they couldn’t find the donuts. No matter. Next time. Those were the words I used to heal them.
Being only human and in Trader Joe’s, I put a few items that I didn’t need in my cart. At the checkout, I had the choice of standing behind a guy with a full cart of groceries or standing behind a couple who were just completing their transaction. I felt a pull to the full-cart line. Soon, a woman stood behind me faced with a similar choice: stand behind me and the guy with the full cart or stand behind the couple that were nearly finished. Apparently, I was confusing her. “Wouldn’t you rather stand in the other line?” she asked. For reasons known only to mystics and behavioral economists, I wanted to stay in the longer line. I conveyed a gentlemanly “be my guest,” and she took the shorter line.
Time passed. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. My turn eventually came. My groceries were bagged, and I was about to put my card in the reader when another Trader Joe’s crew member briskly walked over and set a big cardboard box on the counter. “Is this the guy looking for the donuts?”
Oh, the morals to this story could keep songwriters and preachers busy for weeks. For me, there is but one takeaway. The cosmos spoke to me—good things come to those who wait. It was a test. I was prompted, I obeyed, and I was rewarded. Today it’s donuts. Tomorrow unimaginable fortune. Need more proof?
I once took a trip to Las Vegas. I planned to play $20 on the Wheel of Fortune slot machine—that’s $20 of my own money, the rest of my gambling money comes from my winnings, of course. While driving down on Tuesday, God told me to wait until Thursday to play. I stopped for gas in Mesquite, and I saw that the Wheel of Fortune jackpot was a million dollars. I put my trust in God and waited. That night, in my Vegas hotel casino, the jackpot rose to nearly $2 million. I gave God a little wink. By Wednesday night, the jackpot was $4.5 million. I went to bed estimating that I would wake up to a $6 million jackpot. Just like that jackpot, my appreciation for God compounded. When God wants you to win a $6 million jackpot, you can’t help but be thankful.
Thursday morning, my $20 and I went to the casino. The Wheel of Fortune jackpot now read $25,000, which meant that someone else had won the multi-million-dollar jackpot. God said to me loud and clear, “You’re welcome. You were never going to win. I just saved you $20, you big dork.” God was right. My gambling buzz fizzled, and I brought the well-saved $20 home with me.
Oh, the morals to this story could keep yogis and TED Talkers busy for weeks. The takeaway for me? These are tests—preparation to grab that brass ring when my turn comes. I think I’m ready. You should have seen the way I was grabbing those donuts.
Into the Comfort Zone 