The sound of big band music dances through the truck as we bounce along I-44 east of Oklahoma City. This is my first time traveling with my hubby, Mike, in his 18-wheeler affectionately called “Big Blue.” The bumpy bridge we are crossing makes me glad to be sitting in a cushy seat with built in shock absorbers.

I love music from the big band era probably because my dad did. My dad introduced me to music at a vey young age, and many of my happy memories of him are wrapped in a song. Mike’s dad was an Air Force pilot in World War II, retiring as a Major, and my dad was a sergeant in the Marines. We both listened to our parents’ music as children and enjoy it still.

I am an avid reader, and Mike enjoys listening so we spend some of our trucking time doing just that. We both want to honor God, and no matter how hard we try it is impossible without His help. We have learned that our days always go better when we take time to read the Bible in the morning.

Actually, something happened Tuesday that made me want to act ugly. I wanted to tell someone off, but I didn’t. When I was standing in line at a truck stop waiting for Mike to pay for our purchase I saw something very sad.

A lady about 40 years old was also waiting in line with her husband or boyfriend, I assume. Another cashier opened a new register and asked for the next in line to step up. The lady’s husband cursed his wife because she didn’t want to break in front of others and called her absolutely filthy names.

I must have looked stunned when the foul-mouthed man rushed out of the truck stop. I wanted to trip him and hit him with the nearest hard object I could get my hands on! But instead I stood in shocked silence. An older gentleman nearby caught my eye and shook his head as if to say “what a shame.”

Several times since the incident I have thought of the precious woman standing in line with her head held high and an embarrassed look on her face. I’ve whispered a prayer for her safety and peace of mind. With each thought of her I have also given thought to the angry, abusive man. I find it harder to pray for him, but I’ve been gently reminded that the only one who can heal a broken heart is the one who created it.

Who knows what or who has hurt him so much that he lashes out at those closest to him? Do people sometimes choose to follow the dark side for no apparent reason? This is not a question I have the wisdom to answer. But I do know that people can change, and we all need a touch from the Master.

God bless each of you with a peaceful and prosperous 2018.

Jan Penton Miller can be reached at lilsisjan@yahoo.com.