Two Elles and An I

This is the continuation of the previous post about Allison Miller. This morning I came into my office, and my coworker gave me one of my messages. A woman named Anita Miller has a son named Alan who wants to volunteer for my event. Work gets crazy, I've got meetings and running around to do, so don't end up calling her until late this afternoon.

I call her and give her the event and venue information. Towards the end of the conversation she says, "how do you spell your name?" I tell her, and she says, "Oh, my daughter's name is spelled the same way." I say, "Ms. Anita, was your daughter in a wreck a few days ago?" Yes, she was. I then ask if she was alright. Ms. Anita said she was fine and a guy just clipped the back of her bumper. It was her first wreck and scared her, but she is fine.

God was very cool in letting me know that this other Allison was alright. This morning I'd been checking police reports and trying to find out any information about her. Turns out the answer was waiting for me on a little pink post it on my desk the whole time. It just took me a few hours to get to it. Kind of makes me wonder what else has been sitting right in front of my face the whole time and is only waiting on me.

By the way, my grandmother's name was Anita. Anita Miller.