Friday, May 06, 2005

Point A


And, so it happened. The sun agreed, and children swarmed in play on the big, city park playground. The lilacs announced the toddler area as Cody and I scoped out the activity for bigger children and friendly homeschooling parents. I sat on a rock, wondering about a small group clustered over near a tree. One woman seemed to be pacing, staring off, abrupt; two others were perhaps doing a craft. I was a bit too shy to approach. Suddenly, a blond woman asked the people next to me if they were with the homeschooler's group. My cue.

We're both newbies, trying to find a place. She and family have just moved here. She has a 7 year old son and a 6 year old girl. We talked churches, relatives, curriculum, child behaviors, and more. We exchanged numbers and discovered we live a mere two miles from each other.

Nothing surprises me anymore with God in the mix. He obviously enjoys coordinating our movements, home locations, and definitely our friendships. I've experienced this time and time again. She had been praying to meet a friend. We exchanged numbers and have plans to check out other homeschooling groups together and to get together soon for a play date.

Synchronicity with the wave of his hand, and we're off like a prearranged event!
Thank you, master-planner!

5 comments:

alaiyo said...

Sounds like a great time! It is so hard for me to let go and believe in His sovereignty -- yet He proves His love for us and faithfulness to us all the time.

Hope Wednesday evening went well too. I am no prayer warrior, but I lifted you up for a moment on reading your Martha post.

Blessings,

Beth

Fieldfleur said...

It was so weird, Beth, I felt like people were praying for me, because I was calm and okay with God flooding me for a while with good intentions toward every woman that He called to be there that night, eating bars and squares and grilled dogs ,talking, laughing with one another, sharing their studied spiritual insights : womanfeedfest in many ways : a feminine community that pierced mundanity for a while. Thanks for your prayers; along with some others, I felt them lift me up to enjoy God's spirit moving around. It was awesome. I wish that I could FEEL the faith more often, yet that would be called immaturity. Ah well ... the weight of perfect disciple shifts into a happy irresponsible, but responsive, child. Yippee for the time being!

alaiyo said...

Wonderful, Teri! Those times are so special when you know that He is doing something and you can rest in it and enjoy.

I am always wondering about the "feeling" part of this faith. The Word talks a lot about joy and abundance of life. I know that you can have these things without feeling "happy." Yet it would seem that feeling it now and then would be okay, yes?!

I've been in an emotional desert for a very long time -- in my walk, I mean. (I always struggle against living *by* emotions.) While I think I am not supposed to be chasing feelings about the Lord, I would so like to just *feel* His love for me now and again. Not necessarily mountaintop experiences, though those are fun, but joy in the here and now, in the mundane daily tasks. I do not wish to make that my goal this summer, but I admit that I hope I find some of it if I can learn to walk with Him more closely.

We shall see. We are emotional beings and emotion isn't bad. All too often we use it sinfully, of course. But "abundance of life," "joy evermore" -- I'd like a taste of it!

Blessings,

Beth

Fieldfleur said...

Yes, sighing against those mundane tasks is the anti-spiritual feeling that I despise. Thus, I disagree at times with mundane tasks! :)
Perhaps we delineate emotion too much? Like we say "this" is acceptable, "this isn't" in order to be culturally proper. Yet, God seems to say, "Breathe in the way I created you to breathe in whatever you encounter. Just be aware that I'm with you and want your ultimate happiness."
That awareness would seem to make the desert more moist, perhaps?
Perhaps then we could feel without fright ........?

alaiyo said...

Something to think on, indeed . . .

Blessings,

Beth