... give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the food that is needful for me,lest I be full and deny you and say, “Who is the LORD?” or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God.- Proverbs 30:8b-9
Sitting here looking at a used lottery ticket. Not a winner, obviously, or you would have heard from me by now as to your share of the billion dollar prize.
This is not a thing I would spend my money on ordinarily. Gambling is not one of my many addictions. Those are more in the nature of a private matter, known only to myself and God.
It's just that I wanted to give God a chance to let me prove to him that such a windfall would not change me into a bigger a-hole than I already am.
But, as we see, he always knows what is best.
I am gazing on this useless piece of paper, not out of anger or regret, but am meditating on the six numbers printed there.
See, these are numbers of special significance to me: 12-15-48, and 10-3-60.
Of course, if you know me well, you will recognize the first as my birth date. Did you ever ponder on what a thing it is to be born?
Job cursed the day he was born (Job 3:3); Likewise Jeremiah, in almost exactly the same words.
Not me. Life, as Joe Walsh sang, has been good to me so far.
Regrets? I've had a few (Paul Anka by way of Frank Sinatra).
But no, my life has been redeemed from the pit, I have seen steadfast love and mercy and been satisfied with good things. My afflictions have been light and momentary.
Perhaps you think I am gilding the lily just a little bit here, downplaying or ignoring the bad to dwell on the good.
But I am no Pollyanna, nor do I believe this is the "best of all possible worlds."
What I am doing is reflecting on the second number.
You may know that this is Ms. Joycie's birth date.
Now we understand that God orders and controls all things. How could we not? For none of this would make any sense whatsoever if there were no purpose behind it.
So God, in his wise and all-knowing providence, ordained that this girl baby would be born, sixty some-odd years ago and then he set her in an inexorable path. To me.
Every twist, every turn, every random wandering road in each of our lives led us to Cromwell's Corner in West Helena, Arkansas on or about March 15, 1984. That's a bar, for those of you who never frequented such places.
Amazing really.
Unmistakable grace that would bring together two people whom you (nor certainly I) would ever think to put together, thinking, "Well this a great idea. These two were absolutely made for each other!"
Not even. Yet, in the midst of the fussing and fighting, extreme irritation and annoyance. but at the same time love and commitment to each other, we spent thirty years together.
Until the day the Lord called her home. And I continue to dwell on the blessing of our lives and her going and my own passing, should the Lord tarry in his return.
And so tomorrow, we celebrate, driving to Murray, Kentucky in the rain, to eat the best deep pan pizza south of Chicago.
For we celebrate and will continue to celebrate April 9, the day of Ms. Joycie's coming home.
And I am blessed.
