I don't normally like to discuss politics or religion too much. This year the politics thing has put a burr under my saddle, so I'm more vocal than normal. In fact, on the education front, they've managed to not only put a burr under my saddle, they've chapped my ass. Hopefully things will improve after the election. Now onto the religion thing.
I'm not overly religious but I definitely feel the world is much too complex and wonderful to just be an accident. In rehab I picked up some pointers about stress relief that could include breathing exercises, meditation, prayer, etc., and since I've got a pretty good handle on the diet and exercise part of the "live long and prosper" plan, I've been looking into meditative practice or something like it. I don't know much about it but I've always been intrigued by the guy going to the mountain top like in The Razor's Edge. I've never fully understood the mystic side of life but that doesn't mean it ain't so.
Now, here's the set-up: In my house, unexplainable things, while not common, have occurred often enough that we don't question them any more. The Missus has some Native American blood in her and I truly believe that in another time she would have been a shaman or a medicine woman of some sort. She has a gift. She has things come to her in dreams. We'll have some discussion about a departed loved one and she'll get a phone call a day or so later. There won't be anyone on the line but it's happened enough that now we just take it as a sign that whoever we were talking about is checking in and letting us know that they're glad we haven't forgotten them. She told me the other day that she dreamed about my recently departed brother John three nights in a row.
So the other day I've got a little time to kill after running an errand before I have to go to work so I stop at the bookstore to see about some type of custom car magazine and I decide to check out the selection of books on meditation since the local library didn't have much and I find one that looks promising in the section where they have the stuff on Eastern religions. Now I can get in touch with my inner Zen, find the true path, or whatever helps me keep from having another myocardial infarction. That gets me to thinking I should dig out a bible one of these days to look up a couple of things in the New Testament that might be helpful as well.
Later that evening, I head out to the barn to put a little time in on the VW. I'm sitting on my little bucket and lean forward to check along the bottom floor pan seam and when I click the edge of the sheetmetal with my thumbnail, I hear this beautiful bell sound. I try it again and just a click. I check the bucket and there's nothing in it to have made the noise when I leaned forward. I didn't drop anything on the concrete but I know I heard a bell. Remembering the words of Jimmy Stewart in It's A Wonderful Life, I say to myself, "every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings". Then it dawns on me. It's Johnny calling. He wouldn't call the house, he'd call me out in the shop. After the wife had the dreams, I should have known he'd be checking in.
And the next day when I went to work, the Gideons were passing out New Testaments. The Lord does move in mysterious ways.
Have a good weekend and keep the faith.