Underlying Desires and The Flow

September 30, 2007

Dear Friends,

Last week I wrote about the people you “attract” into your life, and how those people are often there to help you accomplish a goal or realize a dream. These divinely orchestrated relationships—no matter how brief—are always beneficial to both parties. And usually, the mutual benefits are obvious. But not always.

Sometimes, the universe brings two people together for a purpose that is far more significant than either person recognizes or realizes. I recently met a man in Quincy, Illinois who shared his story with me, and it is a perfect example of what I am talking about.

This man, Mac, is fascinated with antique farm equipment, and he has an entire barn—a museum really—filled with inventions that have made farming more efficient and less physically demanding.

One day, Mac attended a gathering of like-minded individuals in a town in far eastern Iowa. For some reason, Mac felt compelled to introduce himself to one man in particular. This man’s name was Skip, and Mac learned that Skip lived clear across the state in Omaha, Nebraska—the same town that Mac’s daughter, Connie, lived in.

After a few minutes, Mac asked Skip if he knew anyone who had an antique grain conveyor for sale. As it happened, Skip told Mac that his family had that very piece of equipment sitting on a farm in northwestern Iowa, and they would be happy to sell it.

Delighted by this discovery, Mac offered to purchase the conveyor. The two men arranged to meet in Omaha a few weeks later, and drive up to the farm together to pick it up . . . which is just what they did.

After putting the conveyor on a trailer, Mac and Skip began the long, slow drive back to Omaha. During the course of their conversations, Mac revealed that ten years earlier his granddaughter—Connie's child—had lost her life in a car accident when she was just a teenager. Skip asked where the accident had happened, and when Mac told him, Skip grew very quiet.

Mac went on to explain that another teenager—a boy—was driving Mac’s granddaughter home that night, and they were hit by a car that ran a red light. The boy survived, but Mac’s granddaughter didn’t. When Skip heard this, he became quieter still.

After several miles of silence, Skip finally asked Mac what his granddaughter’s name was. When Mac told him, Skip paused, then quietly replied: “The boy who was driving your granddaughter home that night was my son.”

Naturally, Mac was stunned by this amazing coincidence, and he wondered what the significance of this divinely directed encounter was. The answer came quickly enough. Although Mac, Connie, and the rest of their family had made peace with this tragedy long ago, Mac began to get the definite feeling that it still troubled Skip—that there was some kind of unfinished business that he had never attended to. And when Mac found out that Skip had never met Connie, Mac felt guided to ask Skip if he wanted to visit her when they got back to Omaha. Skip said yes.

What transpired between Connie and Skip—the mother of one child, and the father of the other—is between them. Mac only knows that hugs were exchanged, tears were shed, and some kind of needed closure was reached.

What I find particularly beautiful about Mac’s story is this: There are plenty of things in life that we consciously know we want—like a new car, a bigger house, or a better job. But there are also plenty of things we deeply need, which we may not be fully aware of—like complete recovery from an old emotional wound. How comforting it is to know that the divine flow can bring us together in ways that not only give us what we wish for on a surface level, but can also—at the very same time—take care of a desire that lies beneath . . . a desire to be healed, or a desire to be returned to a state of peace.

What a blessing that is . . . is it not?

Steven

© 2007 by Steven Lane Taylor