I seem to be finding myself in some remarkably unusual experiences from time to time, but perhaps that is just how I see things.
Whether and how God answers prayer – or for that matter, if He exists – will never be proven.
It seems to be an intentional mystery, essential for faith in the Creator and in knowing with what kind of Being we are dealing with… (are we alone in the Universe or does God see and is God love, and loving?…are just some of the questions we all ask…)
“And without faith it is impossible to please God. Indeed, it is necessary for the one who approaches God to believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” – Hebrews 11:6 (EHV)
I once was part of a discussion about miracles and answered prayer, and whether those present believed in supernatural miracles.
There was a variety of discussion, but one line of thought someone put out was that a miracle doesn’t have to be supernatural. It can be a natural occurrence that happens in such a way (what we might call a string of coincidences, for example) that only the person beholding it sees it as supernatural.
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So why do we attempt to tell other people when we have these experiences?
Good question.
Again, it seems to be entangled in the intentional mystery of faith.
When Jesus supernaturally healed some people, He specifically told them not to tell anyone about it.
Why would He do this?
I don’t know.
One theory might be He was a Master at reverse psychology?
Again, just one theory about this.
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Today has been quite a day for me. I really don’t know how to tell this sequence of events except as just that…a sequence of events along with some of my thoughts, emotions, external happenings and seemingly randomly recalled Scriptures that came into my mind in conjunction with these things.
I’ll simply leave whomever is taking time to read this to find some takeaway…I already know what I think about all this.
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I woke up today around 8 am, having gone to bed and sleep somewhere around 12:30 to 1 am…pretty typical. I started today as I do every day…gathering my thoughts with coffee and my phone…reading this and that…writing this and that…trying to prioritize in my mind what to focus on and in what sequence…selecting music to listen to as I get closer to going in to my office…
In the course of this time, which I consider a form of centering myself in a number of ways, I had made some comments on various things and also formed a Facebook post expressing my thoughts/concerns for the upcoming day, and sharing about this past weekend.
I then put on one of my worship playlists I’ve created for myself (songs start in a random order) and this song (Ancient Words) started first, which I don’t recall happening before. There are about 30-40 songs in the shuffle.
Last night, after midnight, I had written something for my youngest son’s birthday, which is today (January 3) and I looked over the comments.
I read the comments to that point, while drinking my coffee, with a variety of thoughts and feelings…mostly a sense of numbness…
I had also texted a birthday message to my son before I went to bed last night, and this morning, there was no response.
And then, next, below, is what I mentioned having composed during my coffee time and sharing on Facebook. I often frame my various thoughts, emotions and cares in humor. In part, I truly think there is humor to be found in many things, but there are other issues embedded, as well…
In my post, I included these various fun images of Barbie and some photos.
I had some comments by the time I got to my office computer, and inserting this video into the discussion seemed fun, too!
At this point in my day it was around 10:45 am and I wasn’t feeling too focused (on my work!) but I turned my attention to dealing with purchasing and installing an upgrade to my PDF Architect software and subscribe to Adobe Premiere Pro software.
This took an hour and a half and I encountered issues in both processes requiring online chat support. These are stories within themselves about many, many things about our current world…and I was thinking on all that…bottom line was I was overcharged for additional items I didn’t want (nor see to remove from my cart) by PDF Architect and my refund will take 5-7 days! How many people get sucked into such automated gimmicks of sorts?
And Adobe? I couldn’t install my subscription (had to take it for a year of get higher monthly access fees) due to having Windows 7. The chat tech tried to tell me to just update my entire operating system (for free) to Windows 10. Easy peesy.
I had the frustration of explaining I’d have to reinstall all my programs and might have issues there (um…my CD drive no longer works on that computer, for starters…nor would I dare trust myself to such an easy peesy operating system switcheroo…)
Dear goodness…I’m frustrated even further contemplating this issue.
I think I should see if I can be IT Barbie, too.
Oh…apparently…I can be THAT, too!
NICE.
Oh wait…ha ha…just saw THIS.
This is all just so…sexist!
Why?
The logic of this is getting…um…confusing.
Ha.
OK so then I eat lunch and make it out to the building around 1 pm. It is freezing cold and I decide I should start the woodstove.
After lighting scrap paper, cardboard, wood and other kindling and having the basement smoke alarm ringing for about 15 minutes (and then it suddenly stopped…I had opened the basement door) I go upstairs to my framing area and work for a couple hours, while listening to I and II Corinthians on Audible.
And, while going up and down the steps to add more wood, outside to get fresh air and seek Facebook help (ha ha) for why I have overpowering smoky smell in building…I am coughing, opening a window, setting up an air-out-sucking-small-window fan, sneezing, getting water, developing a headache…even now my nose is running from the irritation earlier.
Well…you might guess…was I expecting some advice on social media from a woman friend? I doubted I would get advice from the video…and I saw one supportive woman friend “liked” it…but yeah…I tagged my son’s friend in the post!
Ha. I know he’s super busy…but he’s helped with other things here and lives closer than my son. My son was unable to tell me what the issue was other than “to fiddle around with it!”
Here. I think I’ll say something else “sexist” while I’m on a roll! My first husband used to joke that “men like to grill, because there was an element of danger involved!”
I actually think this is funny!
Maybe that makes me sexist, ha ha.
But, to complicate things….I’ve discovered in recent years I have a lot of primal pyromaniac tendencies, too…ha ha….now that I’ve learned to light a match proper…and a bit of the art of fire making…it mesmerizes me on many levels!
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By now it is around 3:30 pm and I am feeling thwarted. I am feeling majorly thwarted and discombobulated! I’m imagining speaking into online cyperspace…I mean…maybe I need one of those meters with a caption, “The thwartation level is high today…very very HIGH!”
I’m making comedy in my mind…thwartation. I just made a word, too. Ha.
I tell myself, “What do you expect? This is just another typical MONDAY. I tend to feel pretty discombobulated on Mondays…as many do…”
I realize it is freezing out, it will soon be dark, and there is no way I’m going to finish up the additional stuff I wanted to take to UPS in time.
I decide it is best to get the other three packages that have been in my van since Friday to the UPS center, and deal with….the….“number three” spark plug.
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By now, I’ll just say it.
I’m feeling…emotional.
Ha.
I grab the spark plug off the table, put it in my purse and grab a winter coat. I glance in the mirror and adjust my barrette which keeps slipping off my now-thinning hair, which I’ve decided to actually wear down, today, after seeing a photo last night of myself three years ago with it this way.
I feel angry, I feel messy.
I get in the hippie van…and am now approaching the metaphorical emotional “growling” stage, ha. My mind is thinking frustrated, angry thoughts that might not make much sense to anyone but me.
As I head into York, I think to myself…“today is Jonathan’s birthday…that’s really why I’m feeling such a variety of difficult feelings today…”
It was a sudden revelation to me…like the numbness of that situation was suddenly lifted….like the feelings I remember when they turn off the epidural so you can feel to…push…push…push…and that first time…when I didn’t know they would do…that…and you go from numbness to full pain…
I’m emotional right now while I type this. I will just state that…matter-of-fact. My eyes leaked for…just a few moments.
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So then…as I drive I’m thinking maybe when I get home I should do nothing more but write tonight.
I mean, there needs to be something sacred about this day.
In my world, too.
This just isn’t right, I think to myself.
I’m thinking of titles like, “My ‘Dead Son’ Turned 28 Today.”
Why?
Because in the past year several friends and an acquaintance tried to tell me why I shouldn’t call my son their “dead name.”
They just don’t know the full scope and sequence of all this…it really is not about the name. At least, not in my mind.
I have come to a conclusion that was a process for me, too.
But…if someone wants to say that my son has a “dead name,” then I must ask, “do I have a dead son?” In the metaphorically literal sense…if that makes sense…if anyone is truly following this illogical logic?
And if I have a “dead son” shouldn’t I grieve some loss?
And then a Scripture popped into my mind from somewhere…nothing I’ve intentionally focused on before just a familiarity with the passage…it is in Hebrews…I will look it up now:
(I Googled “by faith women received back their dead”)
Hebrews 11:35 “Women received back their dead, raised to life again.”
Now surely that is ripped from some very different context. I’m not even going to go there…all I can say is that this verse entered my mind, probably simply from the words going through my mind surrounding the idea of having a “dead son” with a “dead name”…along with various obvious thoughts about today and about what it is to be a woman, and what is required of women, and of me, particularly, in my life.
And with that, I decided I was going to do it. I dialed Joni-Jonathan, wondering if he might actually answer a phone call, though it was unlikely.
It is my son’s birthday.
I have not heard his voice since mid-January 2021, during a phone call that unexpectedly went very south, as they say. I was blindsided at the sequence of the dialogue, and what spiraled it downward so quickly and led to the severance, days later.
I heard my son’s same voicemessage…along the lines of “Hi this is Joni…” and when the recording began, I somewhat quietly sang “Happy Birthday” to him, using the name Joni…as I have done on numerous occasions the past three years or more…numerous until this past year…after that call in January…but I honored them today by using their desired name, and though my voice was hoarse from breathing the woodsmoke, and fighting emotion…I sang it…and when I finished and started to leave a non-sung birthday wish…I suddenly heard “bye” or “goodbye” and it disconnected.
I don’t know if I reached the end of the recording time or what happened…it was his voice…perhaps he has his voice message to end with his own “goodbye”…I don’t know.
Needless to say, this didn’t help me emotionally.
I continued my drive to UPS, then set my GPS to “mechanic near me.”
Any mechanic!
It brought up “Mike’s Auto Service.”
Ha. I arrived in my “daisy van” and walked in. There was a woman at the desk and I asked if I might “speak to the mechanic.”
I’m laughing as I write this. I think this is funny. I really do. But I have a warped sense of humor…apparently.
The woman said, “Sure, but he is about to leave.”
An older man came out, very pleasant…and I asked, “Are you Mike?”
Ha.
The man laughed and said, “no,” and then I tried to explain why I had a spark plug in my purse, asking, “how much would it be for you to put a number 3 spark plug” on this thing? I just want to see what happens, I said. Something like that….
He walked out to the hippie van (it’s not a daisy van…those were copied from stylized Mexican flowers used in a painting party once…they are NOT daisies…daisies are white with yellow middles…any woman knows that) and he popped the hood.
I pointed to the spark plug the guy at Autozone said was the culprit…actually, I pointed to something plugged into the engine block with a wire going under the back of the engine block…presumably leading to the number 3 spark plug which was misfiring and generating that code.
He said it did take a bit to get to…on a lift…and couldn’t be done while it was hot. He kindly referred me to another nearby shop.
I drove to that shop, walked in, and there was a woman in the office. She was wearing a pink cap that said “Nashville” on it…the woman in my photo!
I asked, “Can I ask one of your mechanics something?”
She said, “Sure.” Then she added, “Or you can ask ME,” adding something to the effect of, “I AM a MECHANIC and have been working here for years.”
I was somewhat taken aback! Yes, I was sexist. I assumed, as I assume with any woman running a desk at a mechanic’s, that I won’t have to repeat the details twice (oh dear goodness….the details…the details…one long rambling of spending nearly $2000 on blower fan sensors and all kinds of sensors and this…and that…and battery…and…and…) if I bypass the woman and go straight to the mechanic, whom I presume, will be a man.
Because…remember…there were no Barbie auto-mechanics to be found online!
So I told her why I had a sparkplug in my pocketbook…half-begging her, essentially, to have pity on me, ha ha!
Pitiful!
Woman-to-woman – the tale of carrying this spark plug around looking for some man to put it on…for cheap!
Ha.
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By then…I was staring out her with a weird smile.
This can’t be happening, I thought to myself.
She walked out to the hippie van, popped the hood and said, “This isn’t a new fan…” and I clarified, “it was the fan mower blower SENSOR,” ….I had spoken the gist of the repair ordeals so quickly I had probably said “new fan blower.”
I pointed to the spark plug, and we talked…she went in and got another mechanic to pull it in on a lift.
Then, she began telling me her story.
“Yeah I grew up in the shop from the time I was in a high chair, “ she started…picking up a photo and putting it in front of my face.
She went on to tell how it was her father’s shop. Her grandmother had run the desk for years but had a sudden stroke about 20 years ago and passed away. She had grown up around car repair and had worked as a mechanic.
Her father had all girls.
When her grandmother passed, she took over the desk, too.
While I was there, she got a call from 911…an accident nearby at the Dunkin’ Donuts…tow truck needed. (Remember this…for later…)
So we chatted and I showed her my Facebook post – I had asked if she believed in coincidences!
Now I’m sure there are female auto mechanics. I actually remembered the movie, “My Cousin Vinny” while there…which involves a female auto mechanic and is pretty funny.
They had my van in and out while I waited…and another woman came in, also distressed…the Lady Mechanic knew this customer by name and patiently listened to and discussed her automotive woes, also…
They put the spark plug on, and cleared the code. I asked her “how much?” and she shrugged around…”Oh…I don’t know…$30??” I said that would be just wonderful!
I paid her and she let me take a selfie with her dad, and I also photographed the framed picture she voluntarily put before my face early in that conversation!
I had told her I knew enough about cars and old cars and “stuff” to not be totally ignorant, but a little dangerous, ha ha. I told her I remember as a child following my dad around while he repaired his cars in our driveway and “giving it gas” once while he was adjusting the carburetor, when I was about nine or ten.
We talked about carburetors and stuff and the rust on my rocker panels and the “lemon issues” with this van. I told her I’d be bringing it back soon for an oil change and they could assess the rocker panels. She said they have someone they use to fix rust, but I don’t know if there is a remedy for this that will be cost effective for it to pass PA inspection September 2022.
We will see.
I stopped for gas, thinking about all these happenings.
I walked briskly to the convenience store door (it was cold!) to find a ladies room, and a man held the door for me…I never stopped, just kept walking, glancing at him in acknowledgement as I walked through the held-open door and then he said to me, “There are still a couple of us around!”
I then looked at him for the first time, puzzled! He had a huge smile – an African-American man somewhat younger, and I will say…good looking! – and he said, “Gentlemen. There are a couple of us ‘gentlemen’ still left!”
He meant, of course, men who will hold the door for a woman.
I just stared at him, beaming with a smile and speechless…I said, “God bless you!” and he smiled at me.
I noticed upon return to my vehicle, he had an older silver van, with a dent, similar to my Town and Country.
I glanced at him and he nodded and smiled at me, again.
It was all just…such a strange sequence of events. And as I drove away…I had another strange thought…I hate to even suggest it…but Scripture does mention at least once that there may be angels among us!
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” – Hebrews 13:12 (NRSV)
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I then followed my GPS home from some area of York I didn’t know…and…as I turned at the next intersection saw the accident the auto shop was called about…their tow truck was pulling away (I saw the shop’s name on it) without any vehicle. There were two vehicles with very severe front end damage in the ditch…I remember hearing her ask the 911 how much damage there was….it looked bad.
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I continued the drive home, thinking about writing tonight.
Something sacred I might do to conclude this difficult day.
I thought about maybe finishing a draft I started about “names” the evening I had seen “Esther” at Sight and Sound in Lancaster a few weeks ago…and I also thought about maybe finishing Jonathan’s “Birthday book Album”…with photos…something I left off with at 8 years old…which I pulled off the shelf and might actually finish “sometime”…with all the photos I have of each year’s party…to a certain point…
And then I was thinking about different periods of crying during my drive this afternoon…and the sensing of God’s presence and witness to my pain and tears.
And then, another verse came to me, which I recalled as “The Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run to it and are saved…”
But upon looking it up in several translations, it is actually:
“The name of the Lord is a strong tower;
The righteous run to it and are safe.”
Proverbs 18: 10 (NKJV)
I don’t know what this means beyond what it says, or why it came into my mind.
But the missing emphasis in my memory is that the NAME of the Lord is a strong tower…and there is safety in Him.
In my mind, being “saved” is more run-of-the-mill in some respects, language-wise, than the idea of safety…of being safe in God.
It just makes me want to finish that piece on “Esther” eventually, as it was about the significance of a…NAME.
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