Maria

I don't believe in coincidences. It happened a few years ago. I don't remember exactly when, but I started to notice a pattern. When I wanted to brush something off as a random but convenient intersection of separate but related events I began to recognize God's hand; helping me side-step a pitfall to temptation, make a difficult decision, or even just letting me know he is with me and cares about me. When you stop believing in coincidences, you begin to see God much more frequently, which is something I had desired for a long time.

If you know me, chances are you know that my wife Valerie and I recently suffered a great loss. Our baby girl, Harlynn, was delivered stillborn April 10th, 2013 after 37 weeks of pregnancy. If you haven't already, read about the experience from Val's perspective, here. She says it better than I ever could.

Despite the fact that I've spent the last three years working at a bank, I did not own a suit jacket. I wanted to look nice for my little girl's memorial service, so we went to JC Penney and found the one jacket I didn't hate that almost fit. I'm not a small man, but I am short. Those of you that wear/help shop for suit jackets won't be surprised to learn that there aren't a lot of 50 S jackets out there. We did find a 50 R, which would need to be pinned or altered to have the sleeves look right. The odds of finding someone to alter a jacket on the weekend are slim. Thank goodness for Facebook.

I reached out to my Facebook friends and was given several names and numbers to try. I called the first couple. One was not open on Saturdays. Another was on vacation in Florida. Then I got to the suggestion from my friend Michelle. She had given me the name and number of her cousin's husband's mother. I looked her up online, trying to find a website, but only found a number, so I called it. I got an answering machine. I went back to Michelle's post to make sure I had the right number. It was, but I called again, anyway. This time, there was an answer.

Maria welcomed me in, even though I arrived an hour earlier than she had asked me to. I wasn't listening closely enough during our phone conversation and couldn't remember if she'd said a quarter to 11 or 11:45. She ignored my mistake and led me to a bathroom to put on my jacket. She was just finishing up with a bride-to-be. After wrapping up that visit, she came back to get me.

Maria is a woman with a story to tell. She is a political immigrant who has witnessed genocide first-hand. I didn't get to hear details, but I got the impression that she has been through and seen a lot more than most people would be able to endure. She is also a true gem with a warm heart and an incredible faith.

Maria treated me like her own son. She started by giving me a hug and sharing that she had also lost a child, many years ago. Maria spent significant time struggling with that loss and being angry with God about it. I won't go into the details of how she came to terms with that loss and became reconciled with God, but she did. Today, she collects rocks from all around the world. She sees slices of heaven hidden in the amethyst, granite, obsidian, and many other pieces of creation in her collection. She showed me a few of her favorites, including one with a striking representation of a lamb and two hearts naturally woven into the face of the stone. These are not idols, but reminders that this temporary world gives us glimpses of our eternal home.

Maria and I shed tears together and I left with a strong sense that God was involved in this meeting. When I returned to pick up my jacket, which was perfectly altered to fit my t-rex arms, we shed a few more tears and she presented me with a card and a gift. She had taken some of those stones, which are so precious to her, and crafted a cross out of them. She gave that to me and Val, along with a poem she had written. This is her ministry. She reaches out to people who have experienced pain and loss and does what she can to show them they are loved and they are not alone.

Meeting Maria was no coincidence. It was no coincidence that I called the same number twice. I knew it was the right number I had dialed the first time. I hate answering machines and would never intentionally put myself in the path of one. I had four or five other people to call, but I called her again and she picked up. God did that.

God did not ordain what happened to Harlynn, but he is working mightily in the aftermath, putting people around us that he can use to pour out his love on us. This world is broken and full of trouble, but God is here and he is working.

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