God grinned again

Jonathan turned 27 a while back. The birthdays seemed to be coming much more quickly than they once did. Seemed like two a year or so was the norm now as he headed quickly toward his 30s. Jonathan graduated in a little more than three years of college, from West Virginia in the beautiful hilly college town of Morgantown, adding some night courses into the normal load. He wasn't in a great particular hurry; he simply loved to learn. In the learning was the longing, and the longing was strong and powerful. His major was education. He wanted to give back the teaching he had received, tit for tat. He was what some would call a hopeless romantic in those terms. He loved to teach.

That was six plus years ago, that graduation day, back when he had long, black, curly hair that dominated his forehead and slid to his shoulder. He was thinner then,  a question mark for an angular body, full of energy and quite fit. He even loved to run, taking long paths that helped him clear his head and his body on summer nights and even winter days.

He took teaching jobs, when he could find them. This whole recession thing was difficult on anyone, particularly on teachers.

Jonathan made friends the way some bake chocolate chip cookies ... with warmth and tender sprinkles of love, but even befriending principals and other leaders in his new New York City home left him with no full-time position. Not in the private school arena, not in public schools, not in elementary, middle school nor high school. Like a squirrel dabbling in winter wanderings, Jonathan looked and looked and looked and came up empty. No job. No way. No how.

He couldn't teach. Instead, he made Venti Vanilla Lattes and Carmel Fraps and served heated bagels to the crowds that poured into the coffee shop. Three times a week. Four hours at a time. That was all the work he had found. It wasn't enough to sustain him, or anyone. No money. No benefits. No help. No hope.

Taking a break one Thursday afternoon as summer slid out of time and tune , and Fall danced in with hues of brown and orange, all whipped cream and pumpkin spice.

Jonathan was drinking one of his own concoctions when she walked past. He tried to remember her name, but could only come up with Margie or Margarie or marvelous or some such. She caught his eye, smiled shyly. Jonathan grinned back at her. She went into the building, ordered a black coffee (one of those people who still did such things) took the full, hot, aromatic cup in seconds and paid in cash, another in a long line of strange and wonderful things that sat her apart.

She walked back out the building, toward Jonathan, who was sitting outside the entrance to the shoppe at a table shaded by a large elm that towered over the umbrella, the table and the sidewalk. Smiling all the while, she surprised Jonathan by asking if the seat next to him was taken. Though he had followed her with his eyes the whole time she was ordering and being served, he couldn't have been more surprised if she had asked him to join her on her space ship for a quick jaunt to Mars.

"Uh, no. No it's not," Jonathan said, the smile washing onto his face from surprised brain to shocked heart. "Please, please take it if you want." He stood, hitting the cast-iron table with his legs as he stood, rocking his coffee cup and spilling some of the latte. He pulled the iron chair back from the table, and she sat. "My name is Jonathan. And you are...."

"I'm thirsty," she said, laughing as she sat. Jonathan blushed, regretting again his inability to remember her name or find the right words to say.

"I'm Maragan, Maragan Holly."

"That's an unusual name, Maragan, I mean."

"An aunt's name, I believe," she said. "Is unusual bad?"

"No. NO. That's not what I meant. What I meant is, uh, it's not bad it's nice. Nice. That's what I meant to say."

She looked deeply into his brown eyes,  an explorer in search on new lands, then glanced at what Jonathan was reading. "The Bible, huh? Seems a bit out of place, huh? At a coffee shop in New York, I mean."

Jonathan's smile shrank, but he said politely, "Why? It's a fine day to read a fine piece of writing, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be insulting in any way," Maragan said. "My dad is a minister, by the way. United Methodist minister, in the Midwest. I grew up reading the Bible. I actually love reading scripture. I have since my confirmation class years ago. What are you reading?"

"The 77th Psalm," Jonathan said.

"That's an unusual piece. Would you read some of it to me?"

Jonathan cleared his throat, fighting fear and shyness.

"Sure. I was on the 12th verse. It says, 'I will meditate on all your works and consider all your mighty deeds. Your ways,k O God, are holy. What god is so great as our God? You are the God who performs miracles; you display your power among the peoples. With your mighty arm you redeemed your people, the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.' I was just thinking about how great God is."

"Yes, He is. He really is. I've just moved up here from Columbus and I thought getting a job would be easy with so many jobs available," Maragan said. "It took me two weeks. But even if I hadn't been able to get a job, I would still have praised Him. But still, God is great. He really, really is."

"What do you do?"

"Me? Oh, I'm a teacher."

Jonathan drew in a quick breath. This darling little woman who had such an interest in him for some strange reason was a teacher.

Just ...
Like ...
Him.

"Yeah. Me too. But I can't get a teaching job to save my life," Jonathan said. "Except at this place, which I guess is where we've seen each other."

"You're a teacher?"

"Yeah. I am. Really. Well, I would be if I could get a teaching job. I was an Education major.."

"Look, I teach over at St. Paul's Middle Schoo, and I'm pretty sure they're going to have an opening for the second semester after Christmas. I would be happy to recommend you, if you don't mind."

"Mind? I would love to teach there. Or anywhere, for that matter. That would be awesome."

"Consider it done," Maragan said. "In fact, if you're not too busy right now, why don't you walk with me over to the office. I'm just sure you can nail this job opening."

Jonathan looked at her: tanned face, thin body, freckles in all the right spots, blue eyes the size of quarters with the radiance of a full moon. He thought briefly about the Psalm he had been meditating on: "I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord..." Jonathan took a sip of coffee, smiled at Maragan again and thought, "She doesn't even know me, doesn't know what I've done in the field, doesn't know anything about me at all yet she is willing to go out on a limb for me."

They rose, together. The first afternoon in what would become a powerful professional relationship that would eventually turn to a loving relationship.

God pushes, and pulls, and we wind up in places we never meant to go only to find that He was manipulating the strings. Free will is certain. God's power is as strong.

God grinned, grace flowed and mercy came a running.