Wondering Why We're Sent
June 12, 2009 |
When I walk into a roomful of strangers, I engage in what is, at best, a self-imposed test in discernment; at worst a superficial gamble. I scan the women to whom I will be speaking and instinctually begin an imprecise version of memory, flipping cards in a lame attempt to match the earnestness of their smiles with the state of their souls. I do it with pretense, albeit pretense with an asterisk. Pretense: I want to know their stories. Asterisk: I want to know their stories to know if I'll hit my mark. I toss God a prayer: Okay, You sent me here, now show me why.
Then I wait.
But at a recent event, he didn't answer. Or so I thought.
Several of us were chatting easily over dinner, typical mom small talk - number of kids, gender, ages - when a card was flipped and the match was breathtakingly unexpected.
Posted by Caryn Rivadeneira on June 12, 2009 | Comments (8)
