…you go to Los Angeles and would rather visit the Angelus Temple than Disneyland or when you have no desire to visit Hollywood but would love to just stand at 312 Azusa Street and shout “Do it again, God!” not caring what anyone thinks! Yes, we’re in LA. We arrived Tuesday night, and today are celebrating the 4th with some of Kevln’s relatives. He’s out in the kitchen making a huge bowl of guacamole and Matt is helping, which means the computer is free (you have to take advantages of moments like this, lol).
Yesterday morning I went to a local spa and got a “foot massage” for twenty bucks. It was way more than a foot massage (they covered just about every inch on my body!) and felt great. I’d gotten a kink in my back from sanding the floors and had hoped this would get it out (it didn’t). But I think perhaps the real reason I was to go was to speak with a lady who would come in for a hair appointment. As I was waiting to be picked up I watched her being dropped off. She struggled to get out out of the car and after a few minutes I went back inside and struck up a conversation with her. I asked if she was in pain and she said her knees were bothering her. Then I asked if I could pray for her and she said (basically) no, thank you. We kept talking though, and I discovered she was a Jehovah’s Witness. A very fervent one at that.
As in most cases there are things I wish I’d have said. For instance, when she said that Jehovah was God’s “personal name” I wish I’d have said “I prefer Daddy.” :) I wasn’t in the mood to argue, and I’m not into “us and them.” We spoke about healing, and she believes it is for today. I told her about the movie “Father of Lights” and hope she gets curious and watches it. Then her hairdresser came out and I blessed her and stepped outside.
We have moments where we connect with people and, like pebbles in the proverbial pond, the ripples go on and on. On the flight here we had a steward named Joseph who had an unusual accent. I wondered (in my mind) where he was from and heard “Estonia.” Or at least I thought I heard it. It just popped in. So a little while later I had the opportunity to ask him. He said that he and his father traveled around South America for years and that’s where he got it and that he’d like to lose it (to which I replied, Noooo!). So of course after he steps away I’m thinking well, I sure missed that! But then I got to wondering, did I really? Perhaps Estonia would mean something to him? So as we’re exiting the plane and I walk past I lean over and ask, “Does Estonia mean anything to you? He says “No,” and I continue walking. Then he says, “What does that mean?” I just smiled. I had no clue and didn’t need one. This I do know: for whatever reason, I planted a seed that’s probably going to have him wondering for some time. Perhaps he’s about to meet someone from Estonia, or maybe he’ll be traveling there soon. And maybe it means absolutely, positively…nothing! But I’d rather step out and take a risk than miss God. I’ve done plenty of that lately, and that’s getting really old (about as old as Eden).