I Wasn’t Looking For God To Whisper To Me That Morning…

It was 7:15 am on a seemingly random summer morning. 
Was it possible that I had just been kicked in the bum by an angel…?
Sounds absurd…
I know…
But listen to this and you tell me what you think happened…

I arrived at pickleball a bit later than I had planned. I was meeting up with someone I had previously met on the “back courts.” She told me to come play with her group on the “front courts” any morning at 6:45 am.
My back court group wasn’t meeting up that day-
So I set out to drive the thirty minutes-
To find a pickleball game with some random strangers.

I arrived, a bit nervous, hoping I would fit in okay.
I wandered around the front courts feeling like it was the first day of fifth grade trying to find my friend so that I had a “someone”. 
My “friend” wasn’t there…
I felt like a lost fool as I looked for games with someone-
Anyone…

Everyone was much better than me but I took a few games with people who were a player short and then exited the rough beating when better players “paddled in…”

I looked for my new friend again-
Still- she wasn’t there. 
I joined another group one player short of a game and halfway through-
Felt a pain surge up my back followed by a numbing tingling running down my legs. 
This wasn’t a recurring injury…
This was new. 

I let my partner finish the game by doing all of the moving and slowly crept off of the court with a strong hitch in my giddy-up. 
I went to my bag for some Aleve-
Texted my son who is a physical therapist, begging for a quick stretch he could send me via text and hoping to be back on the court within 30 minutes. He told me to pack up for the day and he would take a look at it later.

As I was packing up to leave-
I began chatting with the guy who had been my partner during the previous game.  
It was a typical-
“Where are you from?” conversation. 

What I have found in this Las Vegas park is that everyone has a different story than the person they stand with on either side of the court. This man was no different.  
He asked me where I was from. I told him- “Tri-Cities, Washington”. 
He paused – In a way that caused me to pause telling my story. 
He took off his sunglasses and told me his best friend from college used to live there. 
He hasn’t seen his friend in more than thirty years. He spoke deeply of his friend, Rob. 

I didn’t know Rob. Our paths had never crossed. Nor could they possibly have and I was about to find out why…
But first-
God whispered to me that “Ann”  was “this” Rob’s sister.  

I wasn’t looking for God to whisper to me that morning…
I was looking to play pickleball at a comfortable 3.0 level…

Ann and I had met in Arizona 8 years prior. 
I was going through a rough transition after a move, and I felt God connected us more deeply in that season than either of us seemed to have bandwidth for. 
She was always offered a kind smile and I felt like anytime we chatted- we could talk deeply and freely. 
Yet-
It had been years since I had seen or texted with her. 
And yet-
It didn’t matter. 

On a warm sunny morning at a community park in a rough part of town in Las Vegas, Nevada-
God told me that this man was talking about Ann’s brother. 
The man shared more about his friend. He told me he had invited Rob to spend a college summer working with him in his hometown a few states away. He had jobs lined up and a free place to stay. They could have a great summer and make and save lots of money. 
He said Rob told him he had prayed about the idea and felt like he needed to spend some time at home that summer. So he returned to Washington.  A few weeks later,  Rob tragically passed away in a car accident.

Tears were freely flowing as he told me that years after his friend’s passing, he had named his first child after him. 
I listened. 
He talked more about how they met-
A familiarity he felt having known this friend before meeting in the dorms at college…
I listened. 
He wiped his eyes-
And said-
I wish I knew how to reconnect with his family. I’d love to talk with his parents. 

I told him I thought I might be able to help him. He looked at me with the same disbelief that I likely had on my expression when I said those words. These weren’t my ideas. This wasn’t my resolve as I went to pickleball that morning. And yet, God wasn’t speaking to me days prior in the middle of the night when I told Him that He had a captive audience. He needed me then-
To listen. 
He needed me there-
To listen. 
And potentially He had to send an angel to slow me down from my own ideas (of a comfortable 3.0 pickleball game) so that I could be more prepared to hear Him. 

I told this man that I would reach out to my friend, Ann, and see if her parents were still alive. I told him that I had met them in Arizona eight years  prior, but I had not maintained close contact with His friend’s sister-
So I wasn’t really sure where the family was-
But I promised to try to gain whatever information I could. 
I asked him if he would be at the park in the same place the next day. He told me he would. I told him I would find out about his friend’s parents and pass along any information that I could find the next day.

I limped to my car, hoping for an immediate evaluation from my son. He was already on his way to work and because of an accident on the freeway – was running late. He said he would have time after his morning meeting to assess me. So I waited in the parking lot while talking to my friend Ann on the phone.
Ann was in near disbelief as I explained to her the connection that I had made at the park that morning. It definitely felt like I was telling a story that was not mine. 
We caught up on the comings and goings of our lives, and our kids. She shared with me a podcast she had started. We expressed gratitude for the chance to catch up and said goodbye. She immediately forwarded me her parents’ contacts as they are both still living.

My son came out to the parking lot where I was parked after his first meeting and did a quick assessment. He told me he thought there was just a simple muscle spasm in my glute.
He told me to spend some time that day just trying to get it to relax, and if it was still bugging me after work, he could direct me on what I needed to do to get back on the court.
I drove home in near disbelief that so much had happened so early in the morning.

These connections that I potentially bridged were not mine to connect. This was God‘s work. He knew the desires of the heart of my new pickleball friend to reconnect with his dear friend’s family. And perhaps God remembered that I told him in the middle of the night -days prior- that I was there- a captive audience -willing to listen. 

Again, God taught me about God. He taught me that His timing matters more than anything else. And that His messages to me won’t come necessarily when I’m asking for them-
But rather when  He needs me to hear just how-
He can use me in His work. 

I’d love to say the lesson has been learned. But I fear the adversary’s work is to help me forget. 
And thus… 
The mortal path we are on… 
To keep the adversary at bay-
Enough to let God in and hear Him.

-JC

(Names have been changed to protect privacy.)

Iced Oatmeal Cookies

¾ cup soft butter
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cup quick oats
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

Cream butter and sugars with an electric mixer on medium high for 1 minute or until fluffy. Hand stir in egg, egg yolk, and vanilla extract; don’t overmix. Add dry ingredients all at once and mix until fully incorporated. Scoop out approximately 24 2” balls of dough.  Gently roll and flatten slightly. 
(For a richer flavor and smoother texture, refrigerate or freeze until ready to bake.) 
Place on parchment paper lined aluminum cookie sheets. Bake at 375 degrees for 10+ min. Let cool. Drizzle with Vanilla Icing.
Let set. Share!

Vanilla Icing
3 tablespoons whole milk
1 ½ cups powdered sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
Dash of salt

Combine all ingredients into a food chopper or food processor.  Pulse until well blended. Transfer into a freezer strength quart size Ziploc until ready to use. Once cookies are somewhat cooled, snip the corner of the Ziploc for ease in drizzling.