Two recent God moments:
The Flower.
Hubby had a heart attack and wasn't expected to live. He was sent to a hospital in Philadelphia's University City. Might as well call it Hospital City, because there are more hospitals there than universities. I'm from South Jersey, but moved into the city in 1991.
New Jersey -- small state on a peninsula. If I got lost but kept driving, eventually I'd see the Atlantic Ocean, the Delaware Bay, the Delaware River, or a sign that says, "Welcome to New York." I'd be able to figure out which way to go home.
Now, living in Philadelphia, if I get lost, the Mississippi River might be my first sign of which wrong way I'm going. So, it still scares me driving over here.
University City. The most convoluted of all convoluted places in the city! (I have to drive around three sides of a block to get to the next corner to pull into the parking lot where I visit hubby now. I can see it at the first turn away from it.) Nothing but crowded places on top of crowded places divided by a river and expressway. (Both named The Schuylkill.) I felt lost without hubby. I felt more lost going around with hundreds of strangers around me rushing off to do whatever they were doing in that area, and buildings all so tall, I felt like an ant.
Jersey Girl, so when I feel like that I look for trees, grass, some form of God-made, not man-made. And I found it. A tiny pocket garden on top of marble enclosure between two hospitals -- the Children's Hospital and U. of Penn. Hospital. (Also across the street from Pearlman's Cancer Center.) Two five-foot high willow trees surrounded by ground covering and bordered by pansies.
It was Thanksgiving and then Christmas season. I know that ground cover. Lots of it, and it has tiny little purplish-blue flowers in September or October. I smoked on the marble wall specifically aimed at the vegetation, not the people scurrying by. One day I saw a little purple sticking out of the ground cover across the walk from me. (The pocket garden was divided by a walk, and the only place smokers could go for all three hospitals. lol) But something scary was happening with John, I was done my cig and had to rush back. Besides. It's the city, so probably trash.
Next day, I ended up in the exact same spot and saw it again. I went over to look at it.
Right there underneath huge buildings that made me feel like an ant, slightly away from throngs of people scurrying by and hiding out in ground cover was one tiny purplish-blue flower.
That was God telling me, "I see you. I am with you. Even in this crowd of humanity."
The Hallelujah Chorus.
Within that first month, John almost died from a heart attack, he was hooked up to a machine that took out all his blood, filtered it and then returned it for nine days, he got pneumonia, his kidneys stopped functioning (for a few days), and he had an infection so bad the doctor didn't think anyone could make it after what he went through. I'm thinking, "If he made it through that first night, he can make it through anything." But that's optimistic me thinking. I pulled into the parking garage below the Pearlman center asking God if he really would live or was I just getting my hopes up too high.
I first heard it on the elevator that took me to Pearlman's lobby. The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah, but let's get real. The elevator had no Musiak and the lobby had no music. My ears were playing tricks on me. By the time we hit the lobby, I knew it really was what I thought it was. The choir was hitting the climax.
Sure enough -- a choir of high school kids, and man! They're good! I burst out crying, but with a big smile on my face.
God said, "I'm THAT God! No matter what happens, I'm THAT God."
I wanted to give them a good old fashioned woooooooooooooo when they finished, but you can't wooooo, while choking on tears.
On the way back to my car, I asked the Information Booth person where the choir came from. Back in the 1990's we belonged to a ragtag church, and one of the other members was a sweet teenage girl, who was a believer despite growing up with a heroin addict of a mom. Smart cookie! One of the smartest people I've ever met. And she lived with a good Christian foster family trying to adopt her. She was accepted into one of the first Magnet Schools in the city -- GAMP. That's where the choir was from. I wrote a thank you e-mail to the choir's director. The choir was from my part of the city too!
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