| Sunny Side Up August 25, 2004 �2004, Kathleen Gibson God shows up in serendipity In 1754, English author Horace Walpole coined one of the most delightful words in the English language. He formed it after reading a Persian fairy tale titled, The Three Princes of Serendip. Throughout the story the princes kept discovering, 'by accidents and sagacity�things which they were not in quest of�" Ever since, the word serendipity has been used to describe those unexpected jewel-like experiences of finding or learning something valuable when you weren't even hunting for it. An overstuffed life doesn't have much room for moments like that. We've answered the call (honorable as it is) to live purpose driven, goal centered, mission oriented lives, but in so doing many of us have shoved serendipity to the brink of extinction. Sadly, God more frequently reveals himself through serendipity than he does through schedule, and often we never even know we missed him. It happens to me too, until something shakes me awake. If I lose the serendipity, I lose much of what God wants to teach me. If I can't hear God, my spirit dries up. If my spirit dries up, I have nothing to give anyone else. If I have nothing to give anyone else, I and my writing become only one more source of meaningless patter. So I'm learning to listen more to the call to live loosely - no, not that way - but in the sense that I need to make room for the unscheduled and unplanned; room to be inconvenienced even. Like the day Alex and Donovan came over. The preschoolers never come to see me; it's my cat and dog, often tethered on the front porch, they love. I hear their enthusiastic voices from my office, where I sit and tap furiously, as though I'm 'someone'. But that day I stopped writing to say hello. While I chatted with Alex, Donovan wandered over to the front flower garden. In that garden a small painted rock sits atop a larger, plain one. The painted rock reads 'Grown with Love'. Donovan stood there for some time looking that garden over. Finally he turned to me, pointed to the rock, and demanded, "Who died in this house?" His question confused me for a second, until I remembered that when you only have four years of life experience and you can't read, letters on a stone surrounded by flowers mean only one thing - somebody's under there, and he's dead. I kept a straight face long enough to read him the rock and explain, but the laughter wouldn't stay dammed after that. I hope he didn't mind. People who call themselves Christians are mandated to live as though God's interests are more important than their own. In Christianese, we call that 'dying to self'. It's uncomfortable, and not many do. Donovan's question made me wonder how I would have answered if Jesus had stood there asking the same thing? What would you have said, about your house? See what I mean? Loosen up, and God shows up. Now that's serendipity. You can respond to this column at [email protected]t |
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