The day sneaked up on the calendar without time to appropriately send my “I cannot attend because of…(fill in suitable excuse).”
It is a Bible study, which, offered in a friend’s home, will hopefully extinguish the bubble of self-created seclusion I desperately want removed. I haven’t been part of a community in some time, and the longer I am without, the more isolated I feel, so I urge myself past excuses and onto the road to her home. The entire drive battles against red lights and weariness, has me chanting a mantra similar to that of The Little Engine that Could,
“I think I can. I think I can. I think I can…”
I make it just on time and enter, adorned in camouflage-beige hues, just in case I need to escape unnoticed. A couple of familiar faces notice my arrival, though, and engage me with pleasantries until it is time to make my way to a seat. Feeling adrenaline fueling my feet to rise up and catapult toward the exit, I scope the possibility, but since the door to exit is also the entrance to the living area in which everyone sits, I see my possibilities go out the door.
So, I decide to settle in for the session. I am grateful I do. It is exactly what I need. The topic is on miracles in the mundane.
Knowing I don’t need to actually participate and can be an observer only, my need to flee temporarily subsides.
I make it until the end, casually making my way toward the exit with smile-attached goodbye, and out the door I meander—and nearly fall down the steep driveway as the heels of my confidence-giving boots have me leaning too far forward. Narrowly escaping embarrassment, I head to the local coffee establishment to write.
I can’t, though. I am stuck in my vehicle. The emotional toll of keeping the dang feelings under control has me uncomfortably out of control as the urge to purge by way of tear ducts has me backing up and heading home…
Until I see Bill’s car at the other end of the parking lot. Hmmm. I wonder what he is doing over here.
I have a gift, which I am sure Bill is not too happy about, as I notice things – good things, like that the barista today serving my coffee doesn’t have her glasses on, and I comment on how nice she looks. She smiles and thanks me, surprised that I notice.
I think of myself as a “Noticer.” I notice small details undetectable to most people’s awareness. So, seeing Bill in the parking lot driving in a different direction than normal has me interrogating him on his intentions, usually because he disappears on occasion for lunch interludes with burgers and foods outside our clean, cancer-fighting plan. So, I question him, “Did you go for sushi?”
“Did you go somewhere else to eat?”
“No, just here.”
I wonder all the same because his car should have entered from a different end of the parking lot if he came from home as he said he did. But, I let it drop. I don’t have the energy to question his food intentions. So, I inform him of my emotional turmoil, and need to hopefully sleep off the sadness.
Imagine my surprise when I exit the bedroom nearly an hour later, and walk by his office. He shouts out from behind closed doors that he bought me flowers.
“Oh, honey, how sweet.”
“Make sure you put them in water,” he instructs, which actually irks me as he feels the need to assist me to accomplish any and all tasks correctly.
Still, he knows my love for flowers, and I love him all the more for the arrangement. I especially like to take each individual flower and place it just so. Blame it on Oprah; I watched an episode years ago on how to properly arrange a flower arrangement.
About four flowers in, I notice a small box.
My heart flutters. It is my ring. I’ve been waiting since early December for my wedding ring to arrive, and here it is. As an anniversary present, I had a new setting created for my diamonds. It was supposed to arrive the next day on the calendar. But, here it is, in the middle of the flowers.
He hid it there as a surprise. Apparently, he went out on his lunch hour to pick it up – which explains his car’s positioning in the parking lot.
It is the jeweler, who has been in contact with me all along, who goes out of her way to call Bill—thinking maybe he would like to surprise his (emotionally unstable) wife with the ring.
A miracle in the mundane.
You may wonder, “Josie, is this really a miracle?” Well, I believe it is. You see, God knows the landscape of my heavy heart, and I believe He prompted the jeweler to go out of her way to contact Bill, so he could go out of his way to deliver this sweet present to his wife, who needed to feel some tangible encouragement.
My mood elevated three sizes that day.
Miraculous arrangement from God?
Makes me wonder, how often do we notice His presence in our moments? And, do we attribute these special moments as something He maneuvers behind the scenes?