Glorious serendipity

When I got up this morning, my sketchy plans for the day did not include typing this post while waiting for my dad at a doctor’s office.

To forestall any concern, there’s no serious problem here — Dad is fine, it’s a routine appointment.  He’s recovering from shoulder surgery and not allowed to drive yet, and my mom came down with something and is very under the weather today, so I got tagged to give Dad a ride.  No problem.  It gives me an excuse to talk about timing and unexpectedness though, because I’ve been pondering timing lately, amidst the swirl of unfamiliar circumstances that my life has consisted of for the last month.  One of the most surprising things I’ve experienced is seeing opportunities and connections come along just when I needed them, when I wasn’t looking for them at all and had no reason to expect they would appear.

On the very last day of my old job, a friend sent me a note about a possible writing job.  The following week at choir rehearsal, I got a couple more ideas from one of my choir friends, totally unsolicited, and nothing I would have thought of on my own.  I hadn’t seriously considered taking on a career-switch to being a writer; now I’m starting to seriously think about what such a move would take, how to prepare, where to look for work, how to organize myself and get started, what questions I need to start asking and to whom.  Never thought I’d be doing that this week.

I’ve been attending a new church for a few months, and debating if it’s time to start getting more involved.  Once upon a time I was part of the team that made services happen at my former church; I was a co-leader of the music team, I worked on developing slides and graphics to be projected during sermons and songs, I schlepped equipment and helped set up for events and did all sorts of things.  Sometimes I miss it; I especially miss singing, miss the opportunity to be part of a band and lead the church in music.  I really loved doing that, and I was good at it.  The new church has a really strong music team, and listening to them every week reminds me of what I miss.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve had several opportunities to meet people at the church and get to know them.  By chance, not through any planning on my part, the people I’ve crossed paths with have been the pastor and members of the music and tech teams.  All really nice people, who know who I am now, and to whom I got to mention that I like to sing and I used to do it for a church (did I mention that I really like singing?)  Earlier this week I got an email from the church naming various opportunities to serve — including auditioning for the music team, or getting in touch with the technical people who run sound, lighting, and projection.  All areas that I’m interested in learning more about.  Coincidence?  Hmm.

For the last several days on Ravelry, as part of the ongoing mad swirl of conversation, ideas about work and life-changes have been coming up frequently (partly my doing, I’ll admit, but I’m not the only one dealing with similar issues right now).  One of those conversations reminded me of a book I mentioned earlier in the week, Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art, which I have been slowly working my way through since the weekend.  Funny how a book that I’ve owned for years and read a couple of times now comes back to my attention and practically hits me in the eyeballs with things I need to hear now — about taking myself and my work seriously, about things like self-doubt and fear actually being guides toward what we need to do in life, about what it takes to embark on a hard, worthy calling like being an artist, or starting a business, or just improving oneself in a significant way.

Things like this keep happening, and I’m not the one doing it.  I’m not setting this stuff up, I’m just stumbling from one day to the next, wondering what the heck I’m supposed to do now.  And these fortunate things keep coming to me, alighting in my life with such grace and generosity that I’m astounded.

The past month has been a hard test of faith for me, a challenge of whether or not I really believe God is in charge and looking out for me, even when big serious stuff happens.  I’ve been taking him at his word that this is true, and into my life drop these moments of glorious serendipity, opening my eyes to things I would have never seen on my own.  Are they the tracks of divine calling and guidance?  I hope so; I’m holding on to my belief that they are, trying to follow where they lead with courage and gratitude, trusting that I’m headed somewhere good — whether or not I know where it is yet.

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1 comment so far

  1. Suebert on

    A sea of possibilities
    Waves of doubt
    Breaking of fear
    Choices are hard
    Answers are harder
    Faith throughout
    Not without
    Hope within


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