Her Name is Like an Icelandic Volcano

The summer is passing, boxed in by assignments. When I stumble into a free hour, or perchance an afternoon, I'm caught off guard. What exactly does the me, who is not a student or daughter, do? For lack of knowing, I generally end up on a long walk.

Grandma's summer is passing, boxed in by 4 walls: A 10-by-16 room that she shares with another woman who is greatly hearing impaired and keeps her TV turned up to the max. Why does Grandma have to spend her summer in a dark, sterile box? God and I have "exchanged words" as they say. Or well, I've done a lot of saying. I'm never sure about Him. He might be saying everything; or maybe He's silent and I'm making it all up?

I take Grandma flowers to bring the outside in. They talk about her going home, but strokes are hard to recover from and it's already been 2 months. Will she walk again?

Sometimes I call her when I'm on a walk so that we can go on a walk together.

A few nights ago I was a mile from home in a different neighborhood. There was a woman balancing her groceries and cane, ascending a flight of concrete stairs, aiming for her front door.

I have this goal to be a little more outgoing and put myself in situations I'm not comfortable with. This woman thus became the victim of my goal-setting. I sprang up the hill-of-a-yard to get the door for her.

We stood on the threshold for a while. Right away she was eager to tell me about her granddaughter who lives in Germany. "She's smart. She broke up with her boyfriend and went to graduate school. She'll finish that soon. She wants to advocate for the poor, but she's very distraught because her program isn't as accredited as she thought it was at the beginning, and it looks like she'll have to work for the government. It's a desk job. She loves being active and out-of-doors."

I got confused. Had we met before? Was she telling me about her granddaughter because she knew I'd relate? No, I'm just even less unique than I was aware.

She acquiesced to my request and told me about herself. She was raised an expat in Indonesia until her parents moved the family back to the Netherlands. Shortly after she got married, her colleague told her about a temporary research position in the US that her husband might be interested in. She encouraged him to apply.

Soon, one year became two, but before the States could become home they moved to Canada for a while. Finally, they settled back here, in the part of town that gets cool breezes on hot summer days. "You never know where life will take you," she finished.

Before saying goodnight I asked her name. It sounded like an Icelandic volcano. Apparently I repeated it correctly, but I won't be trying it again without a coach. In all fairness, she had trouble with my name as well.

Cross-cultural troubles. We can get over the barrier, that's for sure, but it's seldom elegant. Thankfully, there's such a thing as falling gracefully. Thankfully, there's such a thing as humor.

I am always touched when God ordains meetings like that. Sometimes it's a cool, soft touch. Other times it burns. Either way, He excels at bringing two people together, and He always has a reason. Tell me, please, that it's always a good reason.