I have had a couple remarkable experiences lately of meeting
God in an encounter with a stranger. They were very different experiences, but
I believe their proximity to each other is significant.
The first was a couple weeks ago in a consignment clothing
store (where so many miracles happen). As the owner was ringing me up, she said
several times how frazzled she was, how absentminded she had been all week. I responded,
saying things like, “Oh, I’ve been there,” “It’s no problem, I’m not in a
hurry…” Finally she said, “I just haven’t been here mentally all week. My niece
was killed on Sunday.”
What made her decide to tell me this tragedy at that moment,
I didn’t know, but after a quick assessment, I decided she probably said it
because she needed to talk about it. So I gently expressed my concern and asked
what happened. On her way to work, she had been T-boned in an intersection when
someone ran a stop sign. She was 36 years old, a single mom of two kids – a daughter
aged 14 and a son aged 8. Devastating. I let the woman recount to me some of
the details of the story, asking questions as it seemed appropriate. She got
tears in her eyes, but held it together, and did seem to find some relief in
talking about it.
I am always unsure at this point whether bringing my faith
into the conversation with someone whose history with religion I don’t know is
going to be helpful or harmful. I felt so strongly that God was urging me to
pray with her, which I silently did throughout the conversation. But the
feeling wouldn’t go away. “Tell her you’re a pastor,” the voice said. “Offer to
pray with her right here and now.” But alas, my fear kept my mouth shut. Even
as a pastor, and someone who frequently prays aloud with and for people of all
stripes on a regular basis, this particular situation was something I had not
encountered, and I was reticent and fearful. Finally I came halfway by
promising to pray for her. “What is her name?” I asked. She told me and I said
I would pray for her and her niece’s family. She seemed somewhat comforted by
that, but I didn’t see in her face the consolation I hoped it would bring. I
started kicking myself for how half-hearted that seemed. The sort of thing
people say when they don’t know what to say, but it seems right. How hard would
it have been to simply say, “I’m a pastor. If you need anything, even just to
talk to someone, let me give you my number.” I kicked myself all the way to the
car and all the way home. Ironically, I was so deep in thought about this
missed opportunity that a few blocks from home, I ran a red light in a
mercifully empty intersection.
Okay God, I got the message.
The other encounter happened yesterday on my flight home from Houston,
from meeting my gorgeous new niece. On the leg from Houston to Detroit, I took
my seat and a beautiful young woman with a sweater a fabulous shade of orange
came down the aisle. There was some confusion with her seat, but she told the
elderly couple in her seat to just stay put, and she would sit behind them in
their assigned seat. Shortly thereafter, a young man came and told me I was in
his seat. Turns out the elderly couple was in my seat too, and I had sat across
the aisle in his seat. So the young woman said, “You can sit here by me!”
Gladly! So I moved and I told her how much I enjoyed her sweater, and she told
me the whole process that went into choosing it (a woman after my own heart!),
including the orange purse which was a different shade of orange but oh well
and I said it was bold and offered, “It says, ‘I’m wearing two shades of orange,
and I don’t care!’” and she laughed and then we were quiet. I noticed she was
taking a Facebook quiz (on the same phone I have) that included a picture with
an icon of the virgin Mary, and I wondered if she was Catholic. I liked her. She
was the sort of person I would definitely be friends with, if our relationship
wasn’t to be so fleeting. When the flight attendant came to take our orders, I
thought, “Maybe I’ll get some water with no ice…” just as she said to the
attendant, “Water, no ice.” I chuckled and said, “Just what I was thinking.”
Soon enough, she pulled out a book about a journey of faith,
and then a small, leather-bound Bible, and she went back and forth between
them. I liked her more and more, but I didn’t know how to tell her so without
being that creepy person who is checking out what she is reading (which, for the record, I always do because I use people’s reading material to make up a story
about what kind of person they might be - it's a little game I play). As I sat there reading my own
theology book (hoping she would
notice and point out our shared interest!), I got a very strong sense that she
was discerning something. Something about the intentionality with which she was
working through her book and reading her Bible… I heard that same voice saying,
“Talk to her, Johanna! Tell her you’re a pastor.” I shook it off again,
thinking I was just being self important, like somehow I should be the one to
help her discern whatever it was. But it kept nagging.
I looked out the window then to see a gorgeous sunset, and
this was my chance – “Look at the sunset!” I said. She did, and loved it, and
we started talking. I told her about my niece, and she asked if I had children
yet, and I said hopefully soon, but I had some medical things that had
prevented it until now. She said things have a way of working out, that her
friend’s husband was diagnosed with cancer right before they were married, and
they were told they couldn’t have kids, and then they ended up having three
before he died four years later, and now the friend is married to her late husband's best friend. I
said, that’s interesting, my story is somewhat similar. Here I managed to slip in the
fact that I was a pastor. She asked where I went to seminary, and I raved about
Yale for a while and said off-handedly that I think everyone should go to
seminary. A look of joy overcame her when she said, “Well, I’m going to a
convent.”
Well now I had a zillion questions, and just when the pilot
said we were preparing for landing! I asked as many questions as I could, and
we bonded over our shared passion for faith and for Jesus. I asked why she
wanted to be a nun, and she said, “I’m just so in love with Jesus Christ.” I so
love it when people describe their faith that way! She was on her way to visit
the convent she hoped to join, and starting in August has several years of
discernment ahead of her (postulant, novice, nun - she commented animatedly on the garb for each stage). She has been
wanting to do this for three years, since she was my age. She will be a Dominican
nun, which is a teaching order, and she is very excited.
At one point in the conversation, she said, “I knew I sensed
in you a kindred spirit!” Isn’t God amazing? I asked for her contact
information, saying I would love to follow her on her journey. Until August she
will have email and Facebook, but then it will have to be traditional letters,
though she may have email again after she becomes a nun. I said I love real letters,
and I would write. She said she would pray over them. I love this. I’m so
excited by this connection. As we parted ways, she said, “Goodbye Johanna!” and
gave me a big hug. I wished her luck and many blessings, and she said she would
pray for us.
What amazing things happen when we actually listen to that
voice. I have wondered a lot lately about the potential of the thousands of would-be
connections we make when we fly – it is a potential usually untapped. Michael
and I had a meaningful encounter with someone on an airport tram once, a woman
who was at a turning point in her life and was trying to figure out what she
should be doing, and I think about her so often and wonder how she is doing. This
time I didn’t miss the opportunity to find out and follow up. I’m delighted by
the possibility of a nun friend, and would be so honored to be able to hear
something about her journey to that dream.
What gifts God can deliver through strangers!
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