She had married for the first time in her forties to a man she loved. He died when she was in her fifties. She had lived in the same town, a small, quiet New England town, all her life. The job she’d had for so long no longer satisfied her.
Late one night when heavy rains pounded at her house she found herself in a deep state of unhappiness. She’d been sitting with her unhappiness for some time unable to shake it or to even think of her next step when suddenly a name popped into her mind. She’d gotten the name from someone awhile ago, but never followed up on a call. The name belonged to a highly-recommended counselor. As if in a trance she looked for the number and found herself making a phone call. Had she been in her usual state, and had put more thought into making the call, it never would have happened since it was past midnight. Luckily she wasn’t in her usual state. Althought it was late the woman answered her phone and agreed to see the caller. It would be another hour or so for the caller to get to the counselor’s house since she lived in another city. It was all right the counselor had said. “Come.”
They met on that stormy night and the caller’s life was forever changed. This is all she told me when I first met her in New Mexico. I’ve no idea what was said in the wee hours of that stormy morning. I think she has no desire to relive that part of her life, but whatever it was it was like a healing pill for the unhappy caller. From the east coast to the west coast the caller traveled. An interesting step since she’d never traveled any where except in her own home state before this time. At the time I was fortunate enough to meet the caller she had gotten her college and master’s degrees and went from pastoral training right into the ministry. Of course, it wasn’t an easy road. Did she mind? It doesn’t seem that way. And I don’t think she knows what the word unhappy means anymore.
I marvel at what was set in motion because a compassionate counselor answered a phone call late one night and said, “come.”