Dearest Rachel -
It's said that there are no such things as coincidences; only moments in which God decides, for whatever reason, not to sign His name to events.
On the other hand, sometimes we interpret things as more than what they might actually be.
We've had a few of them in our time, such as that one major windfall shortly after catching up on our pledges to a certain missionary couple, back when we were young and just scraping by. It's the sort of thing that makes one consider believing in karma, even though it's not a concept spoken of as such in the Bible (although the Proverbs and Paul do speak of things such as "as you sow, so shall you reap" and the like).
With that being said, what does it have to do with the fact that I was working in the booth this weekend? I mentioned yesterday about how it was a story in and of itself, but to be scheduled at the last minute due to one emergency or another isn't exactly out of the ordinary, now, is it? Especially on a holiday weekend such as this one (although who ditches a commitment to church due to a subsequent engagement, anyway?)
Well, let's see what I can tell you, and if I can at least make it interesting…
I couldn't tell you why it came to me, but as of Friday, I considered attending services at both the Des Plaines campus and our usual location by Randhurst. I haven't been to the flagship location since early October (the evening before the marathon), and as the folks have a lot of friends that attend there, they might want an update as to how Dad is doing. So I decided to go to one location yesterday evening, and the other this morning with Daniel. At least, that's the story I'm telling myself, and I might even be able to convince myself of it if I give it a little more time and a few more repetitions.
You see, there was still the question of which one to visit when. And I thought I'd ask a familiar face when they planned to be at Des Plaines, so I wouldn't be too lost in a sea of unfamiliar ones. As it so happened, she wasn't even sure if she would be back in time to attend even today, as she was spending Saturday, at least, out of state with friends for one last time in 2023.
And you'll surmise by the feminine pronouns in that last paragraph that there may have been a lie in the one before it; there might be an ulterior motive to my decision to split the weekend between the two campuses. Since this is America, I'm still permitted the right to remain silent on such accusations, but I suppose you're also free to draw your own conclusions, if you should so choose. (You do realize these things wouldn't happen if you were still around, now, don't you, honey?)
But even as I was going back-and-forth with her about her schedule, I received a text from Mike, the staffer who coordinates the production for all four campuses. It so happened that there had been several cases of Covid that struck the scheduled teams, losing about seven people at various locations and forcing him to rejigger schedules like mad (along with begging other volunteers to fill in as necessary) in order to ensure that the weekend was sufficiently covered. As I wasn't assigned for this weekend, I was otherwise free to take someone's place in the booth, thus easing Mike's headaches at least somewhat.
This meant giving up on heading to Des Plaines either yesterday or today, regardless of her schedule. And I find myself wondering if this was supposed to be a sign.
Which brings me to the title of this letter, and another meme to go along with it, to complement the one I started this off with. You might even remember this scene, as we were still watching The Simpsons when this bit aired. Upon boarding a bus, Lisa greeted the driver, only for him to indicate, via a sign posted above his windscreen, that passengers were not to speak to him. Immediately, she attempted to apologize, only to be rebuffed a second time, since that was breaking the rule as well. At this point, she left to find a seat, only to be refused one by any and all she asked to sit by, and wound up in the very back, wondering if she was even on the right bus. Once everyone else had cleared out, without her having seen a recognizable stop, her suspicions intensified, and she made her way forward to ask where the bus was going, only to be met with the Rule of Three in terms of the driver's response:
Of course, the internet has put all sorts of things onto that sign since – it's what the internet does, after all.
Now, of course, the analogy breaks down insofar as God wants us to speak with Him, as well as wanting us to hear what He has to say to us from His own Word. The problem lies in whether we interpret things that happen to us as 'signs' or mere 'coincidences'; and if they are signs, what they mean and how we should respond to them. On this matter, it would appear that the Lord is as taciturn as the Springfield bus driver, which often causes us to jump to incorrect conclusions in the lack of explicit external evidence.
I could conclude that He's telling me that I need to consider my motives for such as I had originally planned on doing this weekend; or, considering the fact that I was able to spend more time at the convalescent home with Dad, that this was a higher priority that I needed to attend to until such time as the current crisis has passed. Or maybe it was just that there was a need to be filled, and I was the one to do it. Sign or no, He has yet to tap it to indicate what – or even whether – it was. Until such time as I know, perhaps I ought to just fulfill my part – whatever it may be – rather than making plans that will ultimately be superseded; let Him have veto power over my plans, as it were.
With that being said, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I'm clearly going to need it.
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