There was once an engineering student who longed to take a philosophy course as an elective, but his academic adviser cautioned him against it, saying it’d be a waste of time.
Still, this fellow was determined to examine life’s meaning, so he went ahead with his plan.
Five minutes before the first class, a woman sporting cowboy boots peered into the room and asked, “Is this philosophy 101?”
Someone said yes, and she wandered away, and the engineering student joked that she must be the professor.
Imagine his surprise when she returned moments later and introduced herself to the class as Dr. Viscardi.
The professor was me, and the student was the man I’d eventually marry — and spend the next 33 years with.
Those who say the universe is composed simply of matter, with no divine planning behind events, would call our meeting purely accidental and no more amazing than an acorn dropping from a tree.
But I firmly believe God is at the helm and even the tiniest moments of our lives reveal his divine imprint.
This is not to say he’s sitting up in heaven playing a giant chess game with people as pawns. After all, he created us with free will and won’t force us to do anything, but he does send us golden opportunities.
And as Thanksgiving approaches, I’m grateful for the heaven-sent moments that moved my life in unexpected directions.
For example, about eight years after we married, my husband went to New York on business and visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral on a whim.
He knew little about Catholic traditions, but when he spotted banks of votive candles illuminating the darkness, something urged him to light two tapers.
He lit one in memory of his father, who’d died when he was a boy, and one for my parents, who’d passed away while I was in graduate school.
When he returned home and mentioned visiting the cathedral, I was surprised, since we hadn’t set foot in a church since our wedding day.
And when he told me about the candles, chills zoomed up and down my back, as a thought shot through my mind: “I’ve never prayed for the repose of my parents’ souls.”
This incident spurred us to explore a nearby church, although we were hesitant about going inside, so we remained in the vestibule. The next week, we made our way into a back pew, and eventually got up the nerve to talk with the pastor.
My husband took instructions in Catholicism, while I renewed my commitment to the faith I’d abandoned in college — and our lives started changing radically.
One day, the pastor introduced to the congregation four little nuns in saris, from Mother Teresa’s religious order, and another thought struck me out of the blue: “This is it!”
You see, we’d been seeking a ministry — a way to redeem our me-centered lives — which we found when the sisters said they needed help transforming an old dilapidated house into a bright, cheery home for women with AIDS.
Jef and I eagerly became volunteers, working side-by-side with the sisters in the house and becoming friends with them, which led to the huge blessing of meeting Mother Teresa when she visited the home.
When Jesus’ friends asked him how to pray, he suggested the words,“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Looking back, I see that God’s will for my life was marrying Jef and rediscovering my childhood faith.
I don’t know where I’d be today if my husband hadn’t been so determined to examine life’s meaning by taking that philosophy course.
And as our life together unfolded, we discovered life’s true meaning wasn’t found in textbooks, but in the heart of Christ.
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