That's what a friend said to me when I related the following story that happened this week. Jean and I have a standing date for lunch once a week. This past Thursday we were eating at Ryan’s Buffet in Florence, AL at a different time than we usually eat and in a booth by the window where we never sit. Also, Friday is our usual time for the weekly outing. So there were several different details at play, none of which seemed unusual to either of us. Not yet, anyhow. Peering out of the window by our table, something I almost never do, I noticed a van pull up with an unusually large sign on its sides and back window. It read, "Buy a bed doll and help a cancer patient, please." An older gentleman emerged assisting his wife who was walking with the aid of a cane and with some difficulty. After being healed of cancer in 2002, I wrote "My Testimony: How I Was Healed of Cancer." Jean and I discussed whether or not I should approach this couple and offer them a copy. We were not sure if we should, and continued enjoying our lunch and date. Later when I went to the dessert bar, the man we had seen walked up beside me apparently wanting a serving of the same cherry cobbler to which I was about to over indulge. That's when the urge came to speak: "Who is the cancer patient, you or your wife?" Dumfounded is the best description I can think of to describe the look on his face. After fumbling for something to say he finally spoke; "It's my wife." It was if I had shot him and he was making a brave effort to recover. I didn't think it so unusual especially in light of his willingness to advertise, in such bold lettering, his wife's condition on the side of their vehicle. At any rate, I briefly told him that I had been healed of cancer, without chemo or radiation treatments, had written about it and would be pleased to give him a copy of my testimony if he wished to have it. Since I didn't have a copy with me, nor in the car, I offered to mail it to him if he or his wife wanted to give me their mailing address. I concluded by assuring him that there were no strings attached and that I had nothing to sell or in any other way to profit from my offer, except to hopefully help someone else who had the same malady I once had and been healed of. After pointing out where we were seated in the restaurant. Then just as were about to leave our table and head for home, the man with the sick wife approached us very solemnly, with no expression on his face but one that seemed to still reflect dismay and unbelief, and handed me a paper napkin with his wife's name and address printed in large and bold lettering. I thanked him and repeated what I had told him at the dessert bar. No further response from him, but to turn and unassumingly walk back to his table. As we started to leave, with lingering wonderment at what had transpired, I noticed another man with his wife who walked with a cane. A bolt of lightening could not have arrested my attention more. It was he with whom I thought I had spoken, but had not. It was his wife who was telling the world about her cancer, not the man who asked for my testimony. Should I speak to them also? No. Neither Jean nor I believed we should approach that couple. We left almost as dumfounded as the man to whom I had spoken. Now we understood why the first man had reacted as he did. What must have he have thought when a stranger approached him with some apparent knowledge of his wife's condition? How did I know? Why him out of a large room filled with other people? When I related to a friend what had happened, that is when he responded with, "Must have been a 'God Thing.'" What do you think? It happened to me. That's my story and I’m sticking to it.  | 
