I’ve always held to the theory that we are exactly where we’re meant to be, even when we might wish ourselves otherwise.

On more than one account, I’ve found myself in prayer – grateful that I’m not the ‘keeper of the clock’.

Recently, it was proven to me yet again. 

Though the ‘days between’ may be long, I hold relationships among my sweetest treasures.  Not long ago, I learned that a dear friend was hospitalized; to be honest, she was the mother of my ex-husband. Despite the years (and obvious adjustments), she and I remain extremely close.  At times, she shared a secret belief that her purpose in this life was to know me……to love me.

I made several trips to her bedside, where she continued to decline as the result of a freak incident involving insecticide used on her garden.

Two weeks after her initial admittance, her family received bad news – her days were numbered (as if any of us are exempt from the counting), and she might not survive the week.  It was Saturday.

On Sunday evening, my husband complained of fatigue and a shortness of breath. Given his heart history, we rushed to the emergency room, where he was treated and admitted for observation and further testing. His heart rate had dropped dangerously low; the doctors attributing it to a bizarre spike in potassium levels.

His room was only a few doors down from my friend’s. Over the next several days, I was back and forth between the two, delivering leftover food, whispering assurances, and sharing in the telling of stories dear to everyone.

It was exercise in leaning – one into another – closing the gap between now and then.

On Wednesday morning, my friend (Lucille) surrendered her struggle, surrounded by love and fearlessness, despite the fact that death had come as an unexpected wolf to her door.  As I huddled in the hall with her family, her daughter-in-law (one of my closest friends) commented that Jay was now ‘free to go home’. I assured her of my hope that such might happen later in the afternoon, following another check on his vitals.

But, when I returned to my husband’s room, I was met by his doctor, sharing the good news. My husband’s potassium level had neutralized and his heart rate was back to normal. He was released within hours.

I am not one to ever believe in coincidence. We are exactly at the place we were meant to be (destined, as we chose, to be).

At a time when I was desperately needed (three doors down), I was given another reason to be there and the strength to bear both.

when my garden
yet in splendor breaks
faces to the sun
let there
my day begin
another
new

held within
the forevermore
I prayed would come
this way –
again to know
the mystery
of you

. . .

Lucille Lundquist
1935 – 2017