In the summer of 2023, after enduring the most tumultuous period of my life, I surrendered my future to God. I expressed to Him that while I would try to listen and pay attention, there was a chance I might miss a subtle sign—a feather or a bird sent my way. I suggested that perhaps a more direct approach, like a club over the head, would be necessary for me to truly understand His message. I committed to following His path for me instead of my own.
Bobby and I had been visiting each other back and forth for a few months. While sitting with him in church one evening waiting for Mass to begin, I was again repeating my prayer request, asking for some sign that would tell me if this was the right man for me, the right place for me. Bobby leaned over and whispered to me that the priest performing Mass was from Michigan; his name was ‘John.’ I nodded and smiled.
Mass began. As we were singing the entrance hymn, the processional came up the aisle. I glanced over and, with a double-take, I realized, “I KNOW this priest!”
My heart started beating so fast I thought I might faint. I grabbed Bobby’s hand and whispered, “I know this man! He was my pastor back home in Michigan! He baptized my son and buried my dad!” I KNOW him!” I felt like I was in shock. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and when he started to speak, my head shook in disbelief. I almost wept. I’d been truly clubbed.
LiviKnit 