Timing

We are having a business meeting at the coffee shop.  We's identity being my husband and me.  It's a quiet morning, except for the older woman talking loud enough for the entire place to hear about her problems with her IPhone.  In addition, she is wearing transition glasses which are refusing to transition.  Simultaneously, she has been able to make me laugh and lose all concentration on this blog post.
Where was I?  Oh, yes, timing.  Timing can be a funny thing.  Most often, I am reminded how God's timing is always best; however, it is not the easiest to accept.  This past weekend I saw how His timing tends to be perfect with a flourish. 
Sunday was overwhelming with the last 'to-do's having to be settled for committee work.  With that finished, I had to send a quick email to the secretary and while there I had the wonderful experience of receiving an email from my Oxford friend, Missy.  Her email proved to me that true friends never lose connection.  Although it has been too long since we last conversed, it seems our all-sufficient Lord has been guiding us along parallel paths.  This time we connected through shared heartache.  It seems as though, when He moves, I feel as if I am climbing to the top of the trees around me and seeing from a higher perspective; further than I could before, but still limited enough that I can't keep my eyes too far forward.  Through Missy's email I saw the wonder of how a group of letters have the ability to make words, which then communicate to the point of surpassing life's bumps, valleys, and injuries.  Although some might consider them to be simply stark black symbols against a screaming white backdrop, only sharing a coldness in communication, I beg to differ.  Instead, these words share a solidarity in spirit and a freshness of perspective.  When the words are from Missy, they are more like a hug with 'go-go-Gadget' arms capable of stretching from D.C. to my house.  Words have the ability to leap, to jump, to travel great distances with ease. 
Then, another friend shared in a text message how her Father continues to take her through the waves surrounding her.  Waves created by hurricane gale force winds and she is on a dingy, but protected.  How humbling to know my waves are nothing in comparison, yet my friend is secure.  Finally, another friendly email contained some links which were difficult to swallow.  The words contained therein tasted like cough syrup on my heart but they were filled with truth.  Truth I had to convince and beg my mind to hold, to digest, and finally, to accept.  Each of these stories, though small, came to my heart's door with perfect timing.  Thankful heart here.