GOD COMES THROUGH AGAIN

Greetings!

I trust you are well. That may sound a trite enough wish but in reality, it is a genuine hope. You have chosen to read what I write, and I am both honored and grateful! As we are still in the season of Easter, I pray that the risen Christ will be manifested in new and renewing ways for you, as you wend your way through the twists, turns and never-ending drama called life. Just remember (I am speaking to myself here, hoping something will resonate with you) that beyond having your back, God is in your heart. There is nothing, therefore, that can separate you from His love and all the blessings He may choose to bestow; nothing except…you!

Having promised myself and my cheerleading team that I would meet with them and you, in this space, at least every other week, I am acting upon the promise, as I was here two Mondays ago. Do you know the saying, The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” Well, siins mi nu av nu intenshan fi gu a dat de plies…here goes.

Last time I shared with you about me praying…asking God to show me things I cannot find, and how within minutes of praying, sometimes seconds, I am directed to the places where they are hidden, often in plain sight. Well, on Easter Sunday, there was another such episode; this time, however, it was not something that I had misplaced, but rather someone, for whom I was looking.

One of my sons is a newspaper retailer. He is a young man who, as we say here in Jam, is trying – meaning he is doing all that he can to live…without having to resort to nefarious measures. Always cheerful, I usually see him on a Sunday, when he rides his bicycle through the Mona community, dropping papers at homes and then waiting outside the Church building, a sizable number of the membership having become regular customers. From my observation, not only is he a regular, but he is also a trusted retailer whose good manners, more than that which he peddles, have endeared him to everyone.

So, back to Easter Sunday. Having returned from leading the early service at a church, some distance from my home, I was having breakfast in the kitchen, when I heard the familiar sound of my son, as riding past the house, he called out his usual greeting. There is one other person who, like him, always calls out a greeting, whether or not they see me. Once upon a time, I would be able to see them, even when they could not see me; the chain link fence, added to my position in the house, always offered a great vantage view. Now, however, with the building of the Bastille wall and gate, it is a good thing I can recognize voices, since I am no longer able to see who is passing or calling, unless I venture outside. But that story of the citadel’s construction, is for another blog😊  

Anyway, having heard my son’s voice, I remembered that I had bun and cheese for him, not having seen him in the days leading up to Good Friday. By the time that I got up, however (my arthritic knees no longer accommodate any movement that will even consider the word rapid), packaged the buns with the accompanying cheese, and went to the gate, son was nowhere in sight. I really wanted him to have the Easter goodies so, assuming he could only be a couple of streets down the road I jumped into my car and headed down the road, hoping to catch up with him. He was nowhere to be seen! I decided in what seemed like a split second, to drive down Old Hope Road, towards Liguanea, where I knew he would normally go, having completed his Mona rounds. Alas, he was not there either.

Disappointed, I decided to return home via Mona Road, hoping that he had used that route to get to Liguanea. No such luck! Turning into the Mona development I was now at the bottom end of my street, and prayed as I drove: “Lord, I need to give these buns and cheese to this young man, please let me see him?” It was about five or seven but no more than eight seconds after uttering the amen, when from a side street off mine, I heard the familiar ring of his cycle bell, just as my peripheral vision caught sight of him, riding toward my car. We both stopped.

“Bwoy, yu noa seh a yu mi a jraiv up an dung a luuk fa?” The smile on his face when I handed him the bag, rivalled the sun. “Thank you, Ms. Grace,” he said. We wished each other a happy Easter with him insisting that I take a copy of a newspaper from the Thursday before, just because… “it av sum nice recipe in dere dat mi noa yu wi laik…”

The risen Lord makes His presence known and felt in a variety of ways.

Until next time, stay safe and well as you remain in His grip.

Grace+