Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Deep thought

Normally my kids spend the weekends with their grandparents but this past weekend they stayed with us. The grandparents also take them to Church, so Saturday evening my daughter asked me if we were going to Church the next day. "Do you want to?" I asked her. "Yes, please!" she squealed excitedly. And so Sunday morning off we went, just the two of us.

When she asked why her brother wasn't coming I told her he didn't want to, and that he should go to Church because he wants to, not because someone else wants him to. Which is why I don't go to Church every week, either.

The funny thing with my Church is when I do go, the Minister's message seems to have been written specifically for me, almost as if it was divine providence that I attended that day (that's if you believe in that sort of thing).

And this day was no exception.

The first time I heard Luther Vandross' "Dance with my father" was in 2005, the year both Vandross and my own father passed away, and this Sunday, by coincidence (or was it?) the Minister used this song as the basis for his sermon. Needless to say I had tears running down my cheeks before he'd finished, and once again I felt as if wasn't there that day by mere chance.

This afternoon while walking from my office to the train station I passed a couple standing on the sidewalk staring forlornly at a parking meter. As I walked by I recalled that morning feeling change in my trouser pocket, and I patted my hip; yes, the coins were still there. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two quarters, looked at them, then turned back and said to the couple, "excuse me, would you folks be needing some change?"

They gratefully accepted the coins, and thanked me as they inserted them into the meter, and I wished them a good day and resumed walking to the train station.

At the last intersection before the station I waited to cross the road and watched as my train pulled into the station. "Guess I'm waiting for the next one," I thought to myself.

The light changed and I walked across the road.

And up the ramp to the platform.

And...the train remained in the station.

Expecting the train to pull out the moment I started to run I casually walked through the gate and swiped my Rail Card.

And then, as if Gandalf himself was urging me to "Run, you fools!" I started running.

And as I slipped into the last carriage and took a seat the doors closed and the train pulled out.

Coincidence? Karma? Providence? You decide.


Thallian said...

I don't believe in coincidence. I believe everything happens for more than one reason. Good story, thanks for sharing.

Crucifer said...

Wouldn't it be nice if the couple phoned one of their relatives to tell them that a stranger had given them some change and then kept them on the phone... and that relative just happened to be a train driver...


Tomas said...

Way better than the conductor barring the door and shouting "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"