God Bless the Broken Road

We enjoyed a wonderful visit with friends Barbara and John Milligan last evening. They visited us in our home when Daniel was a toddler, then we lost track of each other until Barbara found me on Facebook a few months ago. She came over for a visit with John, Mary, and me last month, and helped me piece together some memories buried in my brain.

Barbara and I first knew each other as fellow accordion students at Palermo's accordion school in Santa Ana, CA; played in "band" together (happy memory for me, but not for her). Then we went separate ways, and years later were roommates in a little motel off the beach in Santa Barbara, which Westmont College had contracted as a dorm extension. Barbara was both my roommate and RA. That was not a great time in my life; I didn't do well at Westmont. I've buried those memories fairly deeply, but Barbara's memory is crystal clear. I would expect that she has terrible memories of me as roommate but, thankfully, not so.

It's been amazing learning about Barbara's life since then, getting to know her and her husband, sharing stories. Barbara is a published writer, editor, and spiritual director. She asks questions that draw forth your stories, and I learned things about (my) John and Mary that I hadn't known; John in both visits.

After our first visit, I wrote to Barbara, "I was thinking about your question to me: What did I think would have helped me at Westmont? That question, and my analysis that I should have spent more time studying, have rumbled around in my brain since we talked. Looking back, 'not studying enough' or hard enough wasn't the problem, only a symptom. I think I lacked maturity, life experience, and purpose/goal. In my high school yearbook, I wrote that I wanted to go to UCLA and study ethnomusicology. Why didn't I? I don't know. I think because Jane went to Westmont, it seemed the place to go.

It could be seen as a mistake, years misdirected or wasted, along with my involvement with the Isla Vista Christian Center and my subsequent trek from that group to Resurrection City in Berkeley. Did God guide me to take these steps? I don't know. But, I know that God has blessed this road and guided me along the way. Without the 'mistakes', I wouldn't be who I am, I wouldn't be a nurse, wouldn't have married John, wouldn't have borne and raised Daniel, Amber, and Mary. So, I am truly thankful for that broken road!"

We've looked at the broken roads in our lives that have led us to our beloved husbands, to each other as re-met and deeper friends, to our growing understanding of God and our spiritual journeys.

From the Rascal Flatts songs, which I thank Mary for adding to my musical exposure, I say, "God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you!"