Serendipitous Day

This was written just before Easter in 2003 when we lived in Karori, New Zealand, a suburb of Wellington.

Today was one of those days when the normal turns serendipitous without notice. I got up and decided today would be a good day to walk into Wellington to get the things I needed for Crystal’s Easter Basket. It is about an hour’s walk if I don’t get in a big hurry. When I got to the Botanical Gardens, about half way there, I sat down on a bench to rest for a minute. I don’t usually do that, but today I simply felt a need to sit down.

As I was sitting there, an elderly man came along at a good pace. As he passed me, he said good morning, and I responded the same. He stopped and asked me if I was from America. We began to chat about where he had visited in the US and general information that two strangers usually exchange. He sat down and that is where things shifted to serendipity.

We began by talking about the beauty of the gardens, then that shifted to gardening in general, and before I knew it, we were talking about the magical wonders of creation. One topic led to another and we wandered through comparative religion, the occult, historical fact versus fiction or oral misinterpretation of the Holy Bible. Then we went back to the topic of astrology and the modern day fascination people seem to have with things like earth worship and the odd factions of fanatics who can ruin an entire religious concept by being over zealous and pushy. We talked about the differences and similarities between many religions and we discussed our own spiritual paths.

During the discussions things came up that we used to illustrate our personal growth. I may have lost my son to a murderer, but John lost his wife to one, and the killer was his own son. Oh, the horror of that! John said that was when he began to search for a spiritual balance and meaning in his life. Because he loves his wife so much, he knew that she could not be dead. We talked about the spiritual visits some people have and how powerful dreams can be in our lives. We discussed how people have to find the right path for themselves and the first step is to begin searching.

During our talk, we found out that his friend’s daughter is in my granddaughter’s class at school, and they play together a lot. We found out that we know some of the same people involved in different things that we do, and he said he had a lot of respect for the Mormons because of all they did to help people find their roots with our genealogy programs.

But the best part of the talk was when we were discussing what different religions believe. We agreed it came down to several concrete things that seem to be innate to the human spirit.

1. Less is more. The less we have of material things, the more we learn to depend on God for help.

2. To accept others who believe differently means we must have an honestly open mind.

3. In all religions, it all boils down to this: If we give, we get much more in return. One must learn to give of self to gain spiritual enlightenment or growth. In all religions, that one precept seems to come through more than anything else. In sacrifice we learn humility and compassion.

We had a spirited discussion on the impact the Old Testament has on the New Testament and Christian patterns of belief. Then we had a discussion about my beliefs and how I came to that through the experiences of my life. We talked about how neither of us believes in coincidence. We called it-planned coincidence, because everything happens for a reason. I never sit on a bench when I walk into Wellington. He usually doesn’t cut through the gardens on his way either. Usually he doesn’t do more than say good morning, and I rarely talk to strange men other than to respond to a greeting. I guess we were meant to meet. He called it fate.

It was a wonderful, serendipitous morning that required me to think, laugh, talk about things that I often ponder, and share my inner most feeling about God. As we parted ways, he shook my hand and said that he hoped one day he would have the spiritual strength and balance that I possess. What a great compliment to get from someone I’ve only known a few hours.

I don’t know that we will ever meet again, but today was meant to be and I feel wonderful. My brain got a workout, my spirit got a boost, and I laughed a great deal. John is 72 years old, fit, agile in mind and body, and he is finding his spiritual maturity a very interesting path indeed. I am so glad I got to be a part of his journey.

Going Home

He stood in the rain, looking with longing at the door.  He knew they would welcome him home, all he had to do was knock, the door would open, and he would be invited in. As the night closed in around him, he watched in quiet despair as each window began to glow with a warm, golden light. The urge to cross the street and walk into the house was so strong he actually took a step before remembering he had left that security of his own volition.

When he was a rebellious and angry youth, he walked away from the love and sanctuary the house represented. He felt stifled and misunderstood. He hated the rules, the consequences, and the smothering love of the people who were in that house. He wanted freedom, a chance to explore the world on his own terms, and he didn’t need anyone protecting him while he did it. He was, after all, autonomous and independent. Despite the pleading of those who professed to love him, he pushed everyone away when he finally broke free and moved on.

He found, as days and, eventually, years went by, that the world wasn’t as wonderful as he thought. Trying all the things he had been warned against, at first, was a thrill. But, it was a thrill with a price and the more he paid, the less thrilling each forbidden act became. In time, he became jaded and lost in the haze of addiction and desperation as he tried to find purpose and value in the life he led.

Loneliness plagued his life. Friends came and went, not one of them willing to make the effort required to be a true friend. It was always good until the next thrill came along, then the friends drifted away like smoke in the wind. Empty days followed by vaguely remembered nights were his standard, eventually evolving into an unending desire for something of value.

One afternoon, he got on the familiar bus that took him by the house. The unintentional act brought back the memory of security and love that he experienced in his younger days. So, there he stood in the dark, pouring rain, staring with yearning at the house of his youth. The door opened and closed as people arrived. Laughter drifted out, and people could be seen in the windows talking together. The desire to be part of that grew with each breath he took. But the shame within him for the way he lived his life created a barrier he couldn’t over come.

As he turned to go back to the bus stop, a man touched his arm and asked if he needed help. He said that he had made a mistake and was leaving. The man recognized him, offered a hand in friendship and asked how he was doing. His heart suddenly broke, and he told the man what had happened in his life, and how he was lost, and unworthy of the love of those in the house before them. The man listened attentively as he slowly drew him across the street and to the door of the house.

He stopped, suddenly confused. He glanced at the man’s face, seeing both a welcoming smile and tears in the man’s eyes. He took a step back, intending to turn away to the bus stop and his lonely life. The man’s caught his arm, turned him toward the warmth and light of the door, and said, “There is the doorway, no one can make you enter, but only you can take the steps to go inside. It is your choice.”

He stood in a pool of light, glanced back into the darkness and rain, and realized it had been his choice all along. He took a step. He was going home.

****Our oldest son was one who wandered his own path.  At the age of 21, with a one year old baby at home, he was murdered.  Thankfully, he came home after several years of wandering the year he turned 19.  In the process of becoming a father, he turned his life around.  We deeply miss him every day.  Karron****

Why We Need Friends

By KJ Combs

When I was a child, I was a loner by choice. That behavior stuck with me through most of my life. I prefer to stand back and observe humanity more than I desire to engage with others. Perhaps it is an innate shyness, or perhaps I am simply uneasy becoming deeply involved in the lives of others. Either way, I am still, in many ways, a loner.

Over the years, however, I have developed deep and abiding friendships with other women. I tend to not like women, simply because of the manipulative games they play, and I don’t have a great deal of patience with histrionics and emotional drama. But now and then, when everything falls into place, or, despite myself, I become friends with someone extraordinary. In time, that person becomes entrenched into my life and in my heart. The unique characteristics they exhibit begin to impact me, and how I think and feel. They set examples for me to follow, and they encourage me to be more than I think I am.

I am often surprised that I have friends, as I am rather blunt and forthright and fight emotional overload with practicality and sarcasm that tends to be either salty or cutting. In some strange way, that seems to endear me to those who decide I am worth having as a friend. Why they need me is a mystery to me, but why I need them is crystal clear to me.