Random Acts of Rotten Fate

Phil was banging on our bathroom window. He was late and had locked his keys and cell phone inside the house. Ah....it's Monday in Mozambique. Of course I was in the shower with shampoo dripping down my face. The day continued to bring Monday-like interruptions. On our way to deliver emergency food in Project Life we came upon our El Shaddai school bus....stuck in the mud. I made a u-turn with the rescued school children cramped in the back of my car and navigated through the pouring rain. I could hear little heads hit the back window each time I cautiously maneuvered through a water-filled chuck hole. On my...why do Mondays always seem like random acts of rotten fate?

Mulling this in my mind brought me back to Friday's Bible lesson. I had asked the activistas to raise their hand if they had lost a child or husband like Naomi. 100% raised their hands. I stared at them skeptically until they shared their personal stories: some had lost more than one husband, some as many as three children. Could all these tragedies be random acts of rotten fate?

I looked around at them and recognized the hand of redemption. God carefully hand-picked this group to take His compassion and comfort to those out in the bairros burdened by AIDS and poverty. No one was better qualified; I could see there was nothing random about it. The thought was comforting until my Monday continued on its course.

The left wheels of my car slipped into a muddy ditch so deep the frame sat on the ground. A crowd of men surrounded my car and demanded money for their help. A bit frightened by their presence, I was relieved when the school bus driver's brother drove by and rescued me from my plight. I was beginning to sense that nothing is random in God's hands.

My husband excitedly called me to tell me about a chance meeting in Beira. We had been praying earnestly about developing better cement block houses for less cost. We had spent Sunday afternoon drawing out designs and discussing it with the Piepers to no avail. We had concluded we needed an engineer. As Phil was exchanging money and groping for the right Portuguese phrase, a man in line offered his help...in English. He explained to my husband that he was from South Africa but had attended MIT in the United States and was an engineer. Then he casually mentioned he was currently working on a cement block house design to save money. A random act of fate? I laughed and cried at the same time. What if my husband had not locked his keys and cell phone in the house and missed this chance meeting? Now that would have been a random act of rotten fate!