I am unsure whether it is the fact I'm foreign, whether it's a change in me or my attitude, or whether English people are just friendlier, but it seems as if I have met far more people in unusual situations, than I ever did when I was back home. Let's just say that my interest and intrigue in other people, complete strangers even, has far from died down. If anything, being in another country has fueled this fascination, and I find myself in conversations with people that once I would have shied away from, finding out about their lives and being drawn in by different aspects of them. So bear with me as I recall several complete strangers, that I may never see again, but that with one short exchange of words, made me feel as if I had been let in on a small part of their lives. There's this part in me that is realising that everyone has a story if you just stop to listen. There is so much to be learnt and there is no doubt in my mind that God is amongst every meeting.
Walking up from the high street, my friend Becca and I met an old man carrying a huge plank of wood, and in the gale force wind it seemed to be acting as some kind of sail threatening to take him off into the sky. After his polite refusal of our offer to carry the load for him (involving some kind of over the top banter about me having huge muscles, so typical) we ended up walking with him in case he indeed ended up being blown across half of Gillingham. He was a man of 74, hoping to reach the age of 104 with a wirey white beard and a bony frail body, swamped by clothes that seemed almost giant in comparison. He had a cheery disposition and wittered away about how he was renovating a house in London, explaining that Gillingham was the cheapest place to get it. On hearing my accent he went onto the subject of my home country and people he knew there. Then before we knew it, we had to part ways. Although some would say I gained nothing from that conversation, I feel it was a privilege.
There is a man we have been hoping to see again in the pub. He is thin and wiry with a wrinkled and weathered face, as if he has had all that life offered. A pint glass is always never far from his hand. A conversation with him never fails to bring up religion, the 'forces' at work in this world, and challenges the very being and heart behind my faith. Having not seen him since April last year, and thinking it was a one time meeting, he popped up again at the pub last weekend. Conversation was once again struck up, and the questions of how and why I came back were thrown at me. As I talked, and sat and listened to him, I realised how little about life, the world and God I actually knew. And what a freeing feeling this was. That even though I know nothing, I can still be used, I am still over here for a purpose and that I am being worked on, sown into with every minute of the day. These coincidences of meeting people more than once, getting involved in their lives, sounds simple, but I know there is far more to it than coincidence. I'm pretty sure it's Jesus. I don't really know the reason, but i'm just going to roll with it and see where it goes.
It is seriously by God's grace I am in Gillingham. He has brought me from nothing, and promises to use me, work in me for HIS glory. I am always reminded of where I have come from, those two years where I thought I would never get back here. But his timing is perfect and he has brought me here for such a time as this. I have been waiting for the big event, the big voice telling me what I should be doing, what project or event God wants me to get stuck into. But maybe it's SIMPLE. Maybe, this is it. Being open to meeting strangers, getting involved in their lives and living a life of love as a testament to who Jesus is in me. Just maybe I have been looking for something BIG, when in reality it is small. We will see.
I was at a soup kitchen at one of the churches last week. And there was this little old lady. Her name is Vera and she is known for her constant prayer. Her face literally shone, as she chatted to me about how good God is and her passion to see God work. Her stories of answered prayer and her encouragement to keep on was amazing. She wasn't alot to look at, with a small hobble in her step, but she was fierce, and her heart is so steeped in Jesus. There was another lady also, that I sat and watched. Her gray hair was pulled back and her glasses sat on her little round nose. As I watched her, she was chatting to an unkempt woman who was hurriedly eating the soup in front of her, and divulging parts of her tragic story. The little lady from the church had her eyes fill with tears, as she hugged her goodbye and a promise of prayer was exchanged. I only hope that when I am older, I will care this much, I will still have my heart broken for the people Jesus wants. These ladies of over 60 are doing far more than I am. God is still using them, no matter of age or ability. So inspiring. And such a challenge.
My adventure is just beginning and I have WILD HOPE that there is far more to come. More than I could ever dream right now. More than I could humanly do on my own. May I never forget all the small things God does each day, and all the people he brings in my path.
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