The God of My Lawn Mower

Twice in recent months we have faced the prospect of a mechanical breakdown.
Earlier this summer while returning from Benson our van began to overheat in the middle of long swamp road. It was late and we simply did not have the option of pulling over and walking to a gas station. By the time we got home we were suspicious that the engine was ruined. The mechanic gave us little hope, voicing his strong suspicion that the head gasket was blown.
But he changed the thermostat and filled the system back up and much to his surprise and our delight seems to have fixed the thing. It has been running without a hitch ever since.
And more recently our lawn mower mysteriously ran out of oil and it seized up on me. I did what I could, replacing the oil and removing the spark plug, but I couldn't get the cord to pull out more than a few inches: it was that messed up.
All the knowledgable people in my life shook their heads ruefully and advised me to take the thing to the dump and forget about it. But two days ago I paused while walking past the derelict machine and spent a few minutes working on pulling that cord. I figured it was good exercise, if nothing else.
I was surprised and delighted when it started up after all. Yesterday, when I went to use it to mow the lawn, it started up easily on the first pull.
I hardly know what to make of it. My instinct is to attribute the recovery of my machines to the operation of providence. But the biggest reason that's hard for me is not because I doubt God's ability to heal a seized up motor. It's hard for me to believe that he would bother to.
I need to get over that.