Breathless Haste

W

hen  we  imagine  the  kind  of  places  where  we  might  find God,  what  most  oſten  comes  to  mind  is  a  stunning  scene  on

a  mountaintop,  a  walk  beside  the  ocean,  or  even  sitting  in  a  beautiful cathedral.  We  don’t  expect  to  encounter  Him  in  the  ordinary  places  in our  lives,  but  on  this  day,  we  did.

We  were  halfway  through  the  four-and-a-half-hour  drive  from  our home  in  Greenville,  South  Carolina,  to  Birmingham,  Alabama,  with  our six-month-old  son,  Brock,  and  we  had  stopped  for  a  break.  Rebecca  is  a

connoisseur  of  Diet  Coke;  she  insists  it’s  best  when  dispensed  from  the

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Breathless  Haste

fountains  of  specific  fast-food  establishments,  so  we  had  stopped  at  a McDonald’s.  While  Rebecca  stood  in  line,  she  struck  up  a  conversation with  a  mother  who  was  there  with  her  child.  Rebecca  asked  how  old  the woman’s  son  was,  and  the  woman  responded  that  he  was  eleven  months old.  Rebecca  told  the  woman  that  we  had  a  son  who  was  six  months  old, and  then  she  blurted  out  that  we  were  taking  him  to  Birmingham  for heart  surgery.

is  woman,  a  complete  stranger,  replied,  “My  son  has  tetralogy  of Fallot.  He  was  operated  on  when  he  was  six  months  old.”

In  a  state  of  disbelief,  Rebecca  shared  that  this  was  Brock’s  condition as  well.

e  woman  said,  “Don’t  let  anyone  tell  you  that  there  won’t  be complications,  because  there  will  be.”  She  went  on  to  say  that  the recovery  period  had  been  horrible,  but  they  had  been  able  to  go  home two  weeks  aſter  surgery.  She  wished  us  well,  and  they  went  on  their  way.

We  climbed  back  into  the  car,  buckled  our  seatbelts,  and  continued on  our  journey  to  Birmingham,  grappling  with  the  meaning  of  this surprising  encounter.