The Hour I First Believed

Not really. I have always believed that God has a plan, and that I am but one grain of sand upon an eternal beach. I am shown as much every day, and everywhere. As a male nurse at a very busy Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, I met an extraordinary couple. They had twins who needed our help. This couple was well-versed in the power of prayer. I listened quietly as the father stood between the incubators playing the violin for his tiny children. He happens to be a member of a well-know Christian Rock group. His wife helps the hearing-impaired to communicate with the world around them, when she is not being Super Mom. I had the fortune to attend one of the father's recent concerts, my first Christian Rock experience. As was the plan, or so I believe, this family found me in the crowd, before the show, and met me after, to catch up, as best I could, after sitting so near the stage that I almost became one of Mom's clients. Young fans politely waited turns to speak to the father, who on stage, was larger than life, but in the flesh, was as humble as he is kind. I had given the father a copy of Steinbeck's East of Eden, but God and family have kept him too busy to read it yet. I gave him my email address, at his request, written on a napkin, so that we could keep in touch. Several weeks passed before he contacted me via Facebook, to say that he had lost the napkin. In keeping with a plan that continues to unfold, I emailed him back. I look forward to his next concert, the growth of their twins, and the continuing hints from above that everything is happening exactly as intended. We all are God's children, and I feel his warmth with every breath and heartbeat of the babies I care for. We are blessed.
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