I sit in my car in the driveway. It’s actually colder than I expected and I didn’t bring my keys so I sip coffee and pull my jacket close. I watch my iPhone expecting it to ring at any moment. I am sequestered from the noisy melee just feet away inside my house. The Senator-Elect’s team called asking if the call could be pushed to 8 a.m., and I knew I wouldn’t sound like a serious interviewer with kids shrieking in the background.
This has been a transition year. I’ve written about the winds of change. Incredible opportunities arise without me knowing what it means for my long-term future. Or even for next year. But this. This conversation opened yet another door.
I used to think I would run for office. When asked, I offered I would serve as a U.S. Senator. I know now it’s an improbable course. One I wouldn’t subject my family to – media scrutiny and fundraising and time away – it doesn’t fit now. And I can assure you, I have never had a U.S. Senator call my little iPhone. Thank heavens there were no technological glitches.
She was warm. Her story is another remarkable one. One of challenges and obstacles and eventual success. I recently wrote of my friend with a compelling life story who remarked she was just ordinary. I can only imagine that this woman on the other end of the line, now breathing rarefied air, would have remarked similarly years ago.
We can’t know what will unfold. I spin my wheels trying to see around the corner and plan for the “what if’s” if the road forks. But it’s unknown. How will your family form? Who might you talk to on the other end of the line? Where will you travel? What may you be asked to do?
The call today started late. So I sat. And I thought. And I wrote. And I marveled at all of these unexpectations. None of the opportunities revealed in bits and bites this year reflected my expectations for my year. But it is that for which I could not have asked or imagined (Ephesians 3) that has blessed me most richly and encouraged me most powerfully.