Web writes: "I occasionally visit a couple of my favorite watering troughs in Portland when I have a little time on my hands, which isn't very often. My "pubbing it" is to really check out the underworld scene and find out what is new and what one would expect on such visits. I became a Christian several years ago, and did my night spot hopping when I was a millworker before and after serving in the army."
A Divine Moment
What happened was a "shocker"... and I
had to think, how did this occur? Why am I here?
Then I recalled it had been one of those days -- not cloudy but windy and chilly with meager sunshine.
I mused on, as I sat warming myself in the allegedly new-and-improved Bill's Steak House where the new owners had several TV sets running (operating for customers).
I had gone in to quaff some bubbly, and take a glimpse of the early stages of the U.S. colleges' national basketball March Madness.
The sports lounge was on Sandy Boulevard, a lighted swath that slashed across Portland's north end.
Because Friend Wife was out of town at a heritage farm in North Dakota, I was at loose ends: not
enough time left in the day to get much accomplished around the house, and too
early to sample some of the area's night life, such as it was.
What made it a mid-afternoon venue for me was I had taken my computer in for repairs before deciding to go to my favorite bistro. However, that latter noble, ages-old lounge was a few miles further, and I settled for Bill's Steak House/remodeled with ownership change. 'Twas my second-most favorite spot in the northeast part of town.
It must have been Providence
that guided me. God wanted me there at Bill's for a reason instead of
Concordia House. That's the only way I can explain it.
I was contemplating many deep thoughts about what I had yet to do before Norma came home, while sort of enjoying the basketball game between Kansas and somebody important. I let my thoughts drift to yesteryear when I had romped the hard boards at a local small college.
I don't know why I was doing that. After all, I had to consider the college team I played for was not a big university like Kansas, was 1,000 years ago, and besides it was a freshman team -- about junior college level.
That consideration must have made me look a little uneasy and blue.
What happened next was an absolute gripper. Moments earlier I had glanced around at a few of the bar tables and made mental note that the place was less than a third full.
A young woman -- about half my age -- came a short distance across the room, approached my table,, looked me square in the eye and said, "Remember God loves you more than you'll ever know." She then turned on her heel and departed the premises.
Before I could react with a "huh?" she was gone.
I had to sit and ponder what she had said, because Portland, was/is a city of little religious fervor where such an act is almost unheard of. After a few seconds -- maybe a half minute --I got up, stumbled to the door and looked outside: not a trace.
It has bothered me for the two years since. I had to ask myself, "Did I look that blue? or maybe it was a gift from God -- something meant to be.
After some extensive soul searching, I eventually opted for the latter.
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