DIVINE INTERVENTION

DIVINE INTERVENTION

Night drives home from work,
twenty-five miles on dark, cold,
January nights leaves much
upon which to ponder and reflect.
Divine Intervention, a rare event
reserved only for a burning bush, 
the parting of sea waves
for Israelites fleeing tyranny, 
the selection of prophets, 
kings, and Messiah?

Was it not Divine Intervention
that brought our lives together,
my father’s sudden transfer
from Chicago to St. Paul, my
choosing St Benard’s on Rice
Street, my choice of band
instrument two years prior
to our ever meeting?

How much did Divine Intervention
play in the sequence of our
lives, our move to New Prague,
the path to seminary graduate
school, the opening at St. Hubert,
was it all just simple, dumb luck?

Divine Intervention and fatalism
not synonymous phenomena in
human life. Divine Intervention,
God’s generosity wrapped up
in mystery; surprise, disbelief,
gratitude, and relief its fruits.
Its aliases many, as are its
many forms, all unexpected, no
prescience signaling its coming.

Is not all grace, divinely given,
Divine Intervention? Grace,
the unexpected windfall of
God’s love poured forth upon
us, ours for the asking or for
the unasking? God’s grace,
all gift, all given, all the time.

On the car seat beside me,
Divine Intervention? An
envelope, no identification,
just one written instruction
to not open until I arrive home.
You are sitting in your chair,
afghan wrapped, our newly
born Beth asleep in her crib.

I place the envelope in your
hands, our utter disbelief
as two thousand dollars tumble
from opened envelope onto
your covered lap, a note
floats alongside the fallen
bills, these words inscribed,
“For the cost of Beth’s birth.”

Divine Intervention, its fruits
of surprise, disbelief, gratitude
present in our lives once more,
an unexpected windfall of
God’s love, freely given,
God’s grace, wrapped in mystery,
eternally present to us.
© 2015. The Book Of Ruth, Deacon Bob Wagner OFS. All rights reserved.