Breakfast with a stranger.

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I dropped my car off at the shop for an oil change and tire rotation. An hour later, I got the dreaded phone call–apparently the little noise I asked the mechanic to check out was just one of a long litany of problems with my aging vehicle.

Because my car was going to be out of commission for several hours, I walked over to the Goodwill where I found a journal/workbook to keep me busy for awhile and then headed to a nearby diner for the duration. When I flipped through the pages of the journal at the store, it looked brand new–but now I could see that someone had filled in the first few pages.

So as I ate my eggs and bacon, I opened the book and started reading the reflections of the previous owner. It felt a little weird–a little wrong even–to be going through a stranger’s diary, but I couldn’t help myself. And it wasn’t really like I was snooping. After all, it was my journal now.

It was clear that she was struggling with some things–the same kinds of things I struggle with. She thought her life would be more together by now. She wondered how–or if–she would be able to accomplish all that was on her plate. And she too wrestled with pursuing her life purpose, which seemed to be far bigger than her available resources. I looked to see if she had written her name and phone number on the inside cover so I could call her, if only just to say, “Me too.”

She was at a crossroads. I am too. Wondering if I should continue my work, which feels like my calling, even though it no longer comes with a sufficient salary. The crazy thing is, even as my paycheck is reduced, I feel like God is giving me a bigger vision and asking me to expand my reach. His reach.

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