It’s amazing how each day, no matter how routine, can offer the most marvelous opportunities.
On Monday evening I attended my first meeting of the Greene County Women’s Club. I’ve known about the club for more than a year, many of the women from my church are members and consequently, their events and programs frequently make our weekly announcements. I’d paid some lip service to a couple of the gals about “having to come” to a meeting but for whatever reason have been reluctant about leaving the comfort of my home for a meeting.
This past Sunday after Mass, my friend Moira cornered me, but her hands on both my shoulders and said, “Don’t forget the Women’s Club meeting tomorrow night.” After such a personal invitation, how could I pretend to have forgotten again? So, the next evening, after an early dinner, I headed off to the church to check out the Greene County Women’s Club.
The meetings are held in our parish hall, a remodeled home adjacent to the church, a place that is very familiar to me. As I walked into the meeting room, Moira greeted me in a St. Patty’s Day sweater with huge shamrocks across her chest and a pair of bobby shamrock antennae on her head. “Oh good, you came!” she said, “Come on in and get a name tag.”
With my name safely stuck to my chest, I mingled through the room recognizing many of faces I saw. Everyone was very warm and welcoming, asking where I lived, how long I’ve lived here, where did I work; the usual. Then, someone asked, “Did you used to live in Virginia Beach?” I quickly scanned the face and then the name tag and on went the bulb in my brain – standing before me was my friend, Linda, whom I hadn’t seen in twenty years! I let out a shriek and gave her a big hug.
I ask you, what are the odds? Linda wasn’t just a casual friend, she was a good friend. We’d met through the kids’ elementary school where she taught both Maggie and Andy in third grade. We served on the PTA board together, had picnics, spent summer days on the beach sunning and reading while our kids romped in the surf. I don’t know when we lost touch with each other, but twenty years, and moves to Newport, Hawaii and back to Virginia Beach, took their toll, many close friends from those days were misplaced. People move, mail forwarding expires and lives move on.
How both could find each other in the Shepherd of the Hills parish hall in a very small town in Central Virginia is no less than miraculous. I’m so glad I went to that meeting. I can’t wait to see who or what will happen at next month’s meeting!