Two women stood discussing the routine of their day. They'd run into each other at the local store and great friendship chatter ensued. From hanging the clothes out on the line and surely hoping it didn't rain to when the corn would be ready, they volleyed most riveting remarks. Each was a typical homegrown, shade tree expert in What's happened, what is happening, and what will happen.
VBS was coming up at their little church in a few days. The gals had grade school-aged boys. Is Jimmy going?, one asked of the other's son. No, he's not going this year, quipped the unconcerned mother as she rolled her eyes. Yours going? Nah, the second one nodded in concert. There seemed to be mutual relief by each to find her son would not be the only church renegade.
There seemed to be a moment of dead air as the two ladies simultaneously appeared to be haunted by a brief space of guilt. Their discussion soon picked back up on the path of seeking a mutually clear conscience when one proclaimed, Well, really, it's not like they are going to grow up to be ministers or anything like that. No one could question that comment. She was right. Such wasn't close to happening. No way under God's blue sky those words would be overruled.
What's weird is that Jimmy and I did grow up to become the opposite of what had been mutually forecasted by our mothers. The moral to the story is, No one can predict the surprises of God. Not ourselves.....and not even our mothers. Possibility is always possible.