Photo copyright by Antonio MartÃnez; creative commons license.
One of my friends worries that her version of God isn’t taking care of me, but my version of God is.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t recognize that I am taken care of. Nowhere is that more obvious than after a near-miss with disaster. Many times, I’ve followed a path right up to a major life-changing catastrophe–including falling in love with the wrong person or trusting the wrong guy–and I’ve been pulled back from the precipice.
More than once, I have been stopped cold when I was within days or hours of making a decision that would have destroyed my family, my career, my relationship, my health, my reputation, or my life. It’s been as if an huge, unseen hand has cupped around me, protecting me. It’s not punitive–I’m not being punished for wrong decisions or living with an open mind or opening my heart. Instead, I’m given all the freedom I could want and then, when things might turn badly, I am saved from disastrous results.
Sometimes, being saved from unpleasant things is completely joyous, and other times, it’s upsetting if losing what I’d wanted is part of the process of saving me from what would have happened if I’d gotten it.
It helps me to trust a little bit more in the Universe that I’ll be taken care of. All I have to do is look back on all the times I came so close to getting what I’d thought was a wonderful thing but was no more than a puff of smoke.
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