“Moss village”
I was thinking about the Greater One (God, the Provident, Sovereign, Leader of my life) dwelling inside me and bugger if a clear example didn’t present itself.
Sunday evening I had intended to watch Victoria on PBS. Poised to watch, with auto-tune at the ready, a familiar and dastardly message came across the Channel 3 screen. The notice, bounding across the television was the “don’t call us” we’re having technical difficulties and will resume airing scheduled programs when the problem is resolved, message.
My experience with this message is that programming doesn’t return anytime soon. I was annoyed.
My brain, growing older, rebels slightly when I have to turn on a dime – turn my focus, change my mind, or redirect my attention. I try to exercise flexibility, both mental and physical, but it takes effort – when it was once fairly automatic.
So, I turned the channel to a show I hadn’t watched in a while, preferring Victoria, in that time slot. It was NCIS: Los Angeles. I figured I could watch Victoria online later in the week or maybe catch a re-run.
As it turned out, that NCIS episode was the last performance of Miguel Ferrer (Owen Granger), taped before his January passing from throat cancer. Having seen a few episodes over the last year, I noticed Ferrer had been increasingly (authentically as Ferrer, not in character as Granger) slurring his words. I assumed that maybe he had a mild stroke but I hadn’t taken the time to google it to confirm.
This episode had Granger, in the hospital, in stable condition after an agency-wide attack. His slurred speech had accelerated dramatically. Good move CBS.
At any rate, I googled Ferrer Monday morning and learned the facts about his passing. I instantly felt a twinge of gratitude for the PBS station guffaw Sunday evening and my re-direction to watch NCIS: Los Angeles. I was thankful to have seen that special episode.
I know, to some people, what I’m going to write next may seem a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but, whatever. I think, as insignificant in the scheme of things (life and death); that redirected television schedule was in a small way a divine navigational re-direct. Not monumental or earth shattering, but kind and helpful and a good-hearted dance-move from the divine.
If I hadn’t noticed that same kind of redirection in a truly significant way in others – strangers, I wouldn’t have even picked up on it Sunday evening. Many people label this kind of thing and file it under “things happen for a reason.”
I’m not a fan of that phrase because it seems redundant – this coming from a woman that can see meaning in just about everything. Of course, things happen for a reason – somebody’s reason, ultimately, probably God’s provident reason.
For example, when people have been delayed in getting out the door, late for a meeting or for work, or an event of some sort – and were mightily annoyed by it, to find out that in being late, they missed a fatal pile-up on the highway they would have taken. Or, the missed flight that crashed. Or, the sickness that kept them home from work at their twin towers office, on the day they fell.
God-within, God-led, not-your-time-yet providence.