You turned to me as I sat in church, listening to a service about a faith that wasn’t mine.
“I come here when I visit for work” you said, “twice to date.”
“Prayer helps. I came when someone I love got sick with a bad prognosis. And now I’m back because he’s getting better. It’s a miracle.”
I cried as soon as you spoke to me – before your story had really started. I felt somehow I was meant to be there. You were meant to be there. Today was meant to happen.
“Prayer helps. Faith helps. I’ll pray for your special person. Is it a he or she?”
“It’s me. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was so obvious…”
“No, it’s not. I’ll pray for you. Remember though, you’re never given more than you can take. Remember that. I have to go but it was nice to meet you.”
It’s funny this conversation happened as I was praying. I was thanking God for the many blessings I have and asked him to look into my soul and give me what it is I need as I can’t articulate it.
I prayed, “I try not to ask for anything but today I’m at a loss and am drowning in a sadness that has no reason to exisit. Please help me find what I need to get better, because I don’t know what it is.”
And then you spoke.
Your words stayed with me all day, as I sobbed and dragged myself back to work, as I got through the day, as I went home. I felt it was a secret moment, one between me and you. One where, for a reason I will never know, you shared your story with me and spoke words of hope that broke me and restored my faith at the same time.
I now wonder. Were you an angel…?