Has anyone else had a very unholy event that led them down a spiritual journey? Just me? Let me explain.
Years ago, I had the great joy of getting to live in Louisville, Kentucky during Derby which I figure is the second best thing to to living in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I had a Louisville native friend who brought home a car-full of his seminary buddies and I went to go meet up with them at one of the crowded bars that night. My friend introduced all of his seminary buddies and that is how I met him- tall, dark and handsome with piercing blue eyes like a Siberian husky, you know the type. For the purpose of this blog I’ll refer to as Jon Hamm. Not only does he look like the actor, but he reminds me of Jon Hamm’s recurring guest role on 30 Rock as Dr. Baird.
Now, to be fair, I was equally stunning that night. I had on a J.Crew halter dress with a low back and a makeshift Derby hat that I insisted on wearing out to the bars, even though nobody does that. We spent the night enjoying our alcohol induced flirtation and the warm night time that I love Kentucky summers for.
Now my friend Jon Hamm will be getting married this summer and (spoiler alert!) I won’t be the bride. Because this isn’t a story of how I met the love of my life- instead a story of how I got on this trajectory that I’m still riding (just like 99% of the episodes of How I Met Your Mother). Because that night, instead of just becoming interested in him, I became interested in this thing called the Young Adult Service Corps, which he talked about because he was just 2 months away from going to South Africa to serve as a missionary for a year.
And 6 months later, I was the one applying to be a part of the Young Adult Service Corps. The following summer as he was returning to the states after his year of mission work in South Africa, I left for mine. The rest, as they say, is history.
What started as a rush of pheromones ended with me giving a whole year of my life (I mean a solid 365 days) to God’s mission. And even that has now developed to more. Am I the only one that can almost hear God laughing when I retell this story? Not a vindictive “gotcha!” laugh, but a promising laugh, a delighted laugh. When Abraham’s wife Sarah gave birth to their only son years after her child-bearing years, they named him Isaac, which translates to “he laughs.”And like I suppose Abraham and Sarah did, some of my prayers consist of nothing more than me laughing with God.
Where has God laughed in your life?