Rollin' along, forgetting about divinity.

I forget just how very divine things can be. Like divine intervention, or divinely spoken, or divinely directed. I was talking with the gentleman I work for--Bill (his wife has a neurological disorder, I'm her aide). They are both in their eighties, have been married 60 years, and, yes, they have divine stories. He is an optometrist (Still! Not retired!). Twenty years ago, when most people his age were retiring, he had noticed his client numbers were dwindling, but he knew he wanted to keep working, so he began job hunting. There was a brand new practice opening up in Durham, so he applied. (He and his wife were living in western North Carolina at the time and were getting tired of the cold.) But he bowed out of the pursuit of the Durham job due to changes going on in the optometry world that he wasn't quite ready for. He remained timid, depressed, unsatisfied. He decided to change gears and head south towards Charlotte. He got a job in a bedroom community near Charlotte and rented an apartment. He got off of work around 3pm everyday so afterwards he and his wife would swim in the pool or take long walks around their neighborhood. He eventually found himself itchin' for more though. Wanting more hours, more clients, more work. He went to go talk to an optometry friend in Charlotte. [Note: This is four years after pursuing the Durham job.] His friend mentioned, without knowing about any previous Durham search, that a practice in Durham was in need of an optometrist. The place that was recommended was exactly the place Bill had quasi-pursued four years before. Bill got the hint:-). He applied and was hired, and he and his wife moved to Durham.
So even though it was worry and anxiety that kept him from pursuing the job before, the grace fact was it was brought around to him a second time. And this time it included the added bonus of a four-year status in a consistent and full client base, so he could just join right in--to a good, full days work.
It was better than he deserved, he says. It was better than he expected, he says. I forget how very magical people's stories can be or how God could possibly know what he's doing. I forget that. Bill's story excited me to the fact that I am now apart of their story, and, honestly, what a privilege it is for me. Because they kindly remind me of divinity.