When I asked my supervisor, Friday afternoon, for permission to leave early for our trip to Nebraska, she said go ahead, and added, “have a god weekend.” Since her emails often are missing letters or occasionally whole words, I didn’t think she was trying to make any kind of reference to the fact that my husband would be interviewing for a position as pastor. But the phrase did strike me as particularly apt.
What would a “God weekend” be like, I wondered? Would we experience some kind of “God-incidences” (reflecting a Christian’s belief that there are no coincidences, because God is sovereign over the circumstances of our lives)? Some clear sign that we were (or weren’t) called to serve at that particular church? Wonderful Christian fellowship with the members of the pastor nominating committee? Something else amazing that would make this particular weekend memorable?
Looking back on the weekend, I can certainly thank God for a number of blessings. We had safe travel all the way there and back. We got on well with the people we spent time with, and I think I could comfortably fit into that community – despite my usual slowness to make friends. We certainly enjoyed some good meals and good conversation.
As for memorable – our younger son (who has traveled with us to Indianapolis twice and to and from Michigan several times, but otherwise has seen little outside of the immediate area where we live) now thinks of Nebraska as the “car” state because of the huge dealerships we passed outside Blair, and the antique cars being displayed at the Old Settlers celebration in the town we were visiting.
I will more likely remember the scenes of flooded roads and fields. I didn’t get my camera out fast enough to snap a photo of the farm irrigators in the middle of what appeared to be a lake, or the “Road Closed” sign on what looked today like a boat ramp but no doubt normally leads across dry land.
There were minor problems – what weekend is free of them? The room reserved for us was not a non-smoking room, and no non-smoking rooms were available. But despite the unpleasant odor in the room, it didn’t seem to trigger any serious allergy problems for my husband.
As we started the trip home, the plastic panel covering the wiring below the steering column fell onto my husband’s feet. I managed to wedge it into place long enough to get to a Menard’s and buy a set of nuts and bolts to fix the piece back into place (though what had held it before we don’t know, as there were no hardware loose on the floor).
Of course, no combination of good or bad circumstances says anything about whether or God is active in our lives. If we had had an accident, it would not mean that God failed to watch over us. If there had been a non-smoking room available, we would certainly have been thankful, but the lack of one does not mean (as my younger son suggested) that fate was not happy with us.
When I got that email from my supervisor on Friday, I replied, “A ‘god’ weekend? Yes, probably.” To which she responded, “Yes, every weekend belongs to him. :)”
So does every weekday, for that matter. Whether I see any notable “God-incidences” or not.