6 a.m. chimed on my phone and put a stop to the dream I was having With the advent of daylight saving time, I surprise myself with actually sleeping the past several days. I knew what was on the calendar, what was scheduled. I had a plan. But as I always do, I expect for life to interrupt, to surprise me with the micro moments it has to offer. I’m never just “going to the doctor, stopping at the bank, not just teaching, nannying, organizing, tutoring. There’s no such thing as just grabbing a quick cup of coffee or lunch with a friend; new or old. I am waiting for the “one thing”, the “ah, there it is!”, the warm sunshine that spreads over hearts like orange marmalade.

I made my way to the government office appointment; dress on, makeup applied, looking like a sane and clean human being to settle a matter that needed to be taken care of. Government offices always have a “going to visit someone in prison” vibe to them. Security guards, desks behind glass, tired looking people who already seem defeated and a silence that rests over all the waiting bodies. I was grateful for the in person meeting scheduled on my behalf because of complicated phone calls that weren’t getting things done so I brought a potted pink daisy to say “thank you for even being willing to be a government worker!

Next stop was Crooked Stone Road, all twisty turney in the trees surrounding it. I opened the door to the charming home nestled there that I help keep orderly twice a month. I’ve known the young mother of the house since she was a little girl and life has circled us back into each others lives in such a lovely way. They have left for the day and I hum as I work, propping my phone up on whatever I can find in each room as I go, listening to the Marco Polo messages from my friends. It’s like having company that you don’t have to look at while they talk. I sweep, they chat. I’ll answer them later as I drive home.

When I met Bethany she was a young woman, unmarried, no children and on the cusp of beginning a new job as the art teacher at the school I also worked for. Over the three years we worked together, our unlikely friendship developed; me old enough to be her mom, her …..young enough to be my daughter. 🙂 We laughed til we cried some days, cried without laughing others. Eventually she found “the one” and I went to her wedding, happy as a mom would be for her. Then came baby 1, then 2, then 3. She continued to work, never seeing herself as wanting to be a “stay at home mom”. A few months ago, we met for lunch. She was feeling a surprising change in herself. She missed being home. “I’m not sure what to do,” she said. I think you know exactly what you want to do, I replied. Your whole face lights up when you say “home”. Are you ready to jump into the life of “adventurous faith”? This morning, now 3 months later, she sent me a Marco Polo…..from home, where she makes her lasting memories.

When I was in college, I heard about a summer program. I could go be a youth leader anywhere they offered in the world for 3 months. I sent in the application and left the “where to?” line blank. I would leave it up to God. In a few weeks, I packed my bags and headed to Syracuse, New York. I lived with a host family and settled into the middle of a group of teenagers that knew each other from school. By summers’ end we’d created a community; sort of like Breakfast Club, only in church. There were crazy water balloon fights, organized Bible studies and some nights where we ordered pizza and sat in the back yard with a camp fire under the stars and talked about whatever they had questions about. It was the summer I realized I was made to “get in the dirt” with people; to help them in the life gardens’. Wendy was one of the teens. We stayed in touch for a few years after I returned from the summer , I went to her wedding, and then lost touch. Here in recent times, and with social media, we found our way back to each other. She sends Marco Polos about her grand kids and I marvel how teen and youth leader are now on level ground.

I head to the doctor and notice the book on the front seat beside me. Should I take it in with me? I hate waiting with nothing to do. I grab it at the last minute, and head in and approach the counter for the check in. The young lady ushers me back to do the blood pressure, temperature routine.

“What book are you reading?” It took me off guard. I hadn’t even had time to open it.

“It’s called Poet Priest by Andy Squyers. It’s by a guy who is a Christian musician but he isn’t “churchy”. Do you know what I mean?

“Yes! I know who that is, I think! Are you a Christian?”

“I am! Are you??”

“Yes! For some reason I knew I was supposed to ask you about your book.”

“Well, that’s interesting because I almost didn’t bring it in. Tell me, what do you want to do with your life?”

“You know what…I’m not sure. I am enrolled in med school but I don’t feel at peace about it. I’m not sure it’s what I should be doing. What I really want is to work in holistic medicine and help people that way.Well then, she needed to meet my holistic doctor and massage therapist and she took down their names and we just looked at one another. This was supposed to happen, we both agreed. She doesn’t even normally work in this location but today she was assigned here. I like to write, I told her and I am already writing about this in my head. May I take your picture to remember this day and use it in my blog? And so the camera snapped and I walked away whispering to God how amazed I am at Him.

I walked out to the car to my final stop. When I realized I had extra time I knew just where to go next. Nancy has been my friend for over 30 years. The first time I met her, I had come to pick her grand kids up and take them to a kids camp for church with my kids. She came out in white pants and a hot pink top and bubbled over in personality and I thought…I wanna be like her when I grow up! She lived her entire life serving people. She and her husband flew to Nigeria twice to help with a church there, she took people into her home who needed a place to heal, sang songs and made crafts with every child she had the joy of meeting. And PRAY? This woman was a warrior in the prayer room!

During one of my darkest times, when it felt like the nightmare in my own life wasn’t going to stop, I came to her house each night, falling onto her couch from working all day and pretending like everything was ok when it absolutely wasn’t. I couldn’t speak, I was so drained. She had my strong, unsweetened iced tea and grilled cheese sandwich just like I liked it…burned on purpose. As I laid in a pile, she would sit beside me and smooth my hair and speak calming words to me and remind me “Jesus loves me, this I know”. Today, her memory is beginning to fade,and she lives in a safe place where she is cared for. I walked through the hallways towards her small apartment within the facility and found her in the cafeteria. Her face lit up with recognition as she saw me walk into where she was and I was relieved. She still knew me.

We sat for two hours. “There’s nowhere else I want to be right now, Nancy. I love you.” She loves me too, she said, and her eyes filled with tears. She told me what it feels like to be there. It’s like you’re not needed anymore. What would you tell me, for the years I have left in my own life?

“Keep helping people until you can’t.”

I told her about my grandfather who has been gone many years now. I knew that he prayed for me every single day of my life. “When he left, I missed knowing that. Would you pray for me every day?” Yes, I will, she responded and bowed her head immediately. It was a simple prayer, almost childlike; not the exhortative ones she used to pray years ago. But she prayed.

I sit at my kitchen counter, wrapped in joy.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, God. <3