A great quote from Francis Schaeffer: “ Everyone matters or no one matters” I was at the big box, getting the usual things. One thing from the far Southwest end and another two from the far Northeast end. Special stuff with all the right names and contents. It went very well, a perfect match to the pictures on my cell phone.

The store was packed with bad drivers of a certain genre. Fast moving carts darting around with determined pilots at the helm handles. Dodging and weaving. A familiar looking woman called out my name and since the seizures, her name was unavailable to my memory. She filled me in when gently told why I didn’t recall and the memories came flooding back. This has happened many times. There is a pathway that was closed to this type of recall but a detour can be available. Patience. They chatted for some time, it was very good. I and the older friend began chatting and exchanging catch-up stories near the avocados and plums. No matter which way they parked, it seemed they were in the way but it was OK. People seemed always in a very big hurry somehow. A delightful conversation and it was time to check out in the under 20 items line.

Hustling the cart out to the car, I thought he recognized another old friend chatting with an older woman with swell round glasses and a classy blouse. I put the groceries in the trunk, carefully putting a wool blanket around the refrigerated items and then, patting his pockets, he realized he did not have his phone.

I hurried back in and went to the customer service desk. There was a woman with her boys ahead of him putting change into a large bowl to be counted. Rolls of coins. Many rolls of coins. I just waited until another friend behind the counter called him over. I was just blurting out “Has anyone found a cell phone?” Within a second, not longer, a woman walked up to the counter and declared she had found a phone in the meat section.

It was mine. I thanked her profusely and prayed for her and her boys. I Told her to keep listening to the small voice that directs us to serve one another. I was overjoyed at the timing.

Leaving the store for the second time, phone in hand, I went to the woman he recognized in the parking lot. She had the hatch open on her van and they smiled and said each other’s first name as a greeting. Another conversation that was a real catch up type and she began on the subject of pulling the bad things we harbor in our spirit by the root. I told her: “be right back!”. The newspaper he bought he grabbed and brought it back to her, pointing out my last column.

The exact phrasing, “pulling bad things we harbor out by the “root” It seemed appropriate. She was so pleased at reconnecting after ten years had gone by since they had been in a church fellowship together. I was pleased at the timing again. She prayed for me and for those weeds in my spirit to be pulled out for good. The weeds seemed to be a lack of trust in the Lord and, of course, trust in anyone else.

Some folks refer to that type of thing as faith. One of my mentors said he threw out the faith word in conversations and replaced it with trust. If it works for you, great. Otherwise bypass that direction. Trust me, it’s OK.

Driving home, somehow fulfilled to the brim, I realized that my best friend Jesus, had hit a perfect infield triple. Three people blessed me, three people interacted with perfect timing to get on base. Not really a game, of course. This was the first thing I imaged when I reflected on what had just happened. Doesn’t happen very often in baseball either. Timing is the key. The lord who created time (first three words of scripture: “In the Beginning”) It was incredible.

I have been digging at the root of not trusting for a long time. Too many disappointments in life. Too much trauma. Too many bad things let into my spirit that generated a lack of trust. Again, in the words of Mr. Beaver in ‘The lion, the witch and the wardrobe’ “Is he safe?” asked Peter in the story. “Of course He’s not safe. He’s a lion! But He’s good!” a The Lion of Judah. It’s pretty good.

Jack Gator

a. C.S. Lewis