Some weeks ago, I went for a walk. I was in a funk and needed out of the house for a bit. Blame it on a lingering winter (you have to in Indiana).Kim and I had been restless for a while, just feeling groundless. That’s all changed, and I’ll tell you more about that in a day or two. But for now just know we were getting by, but that’s about it.So, I pushed back from my laptop, unable to do any more work, and grabbed my shoes. I pulled out a burnt orange corduroy coat that was my grandfather’s in the late 70’s and headed out the door.As I was walking along, I was lost in self-loathing thoughts wondering HOW I got where I was and what to do next with my life. In the midst of that, my toe caught something on the sidewalk and sent it clattering ahead of me. I went towards the object, and THIS is what I found.
The bloody control key from a discarded computer keyboard. The control key. I glanced back and saw where it came from, the rest of an old keyboard left where that residence’s trash can sits on Friday mornings.But the CONTROL key. There are like 106 OTHER keys it could’ve been. Read into it what you will. Holding it in my flat palm, I just stared at it in between frosty breaths. Then I held it out to God and said, “You have my attention, and I’m giving THIS to you.” I pocketed it, knowing it was indicative of something yet to come.Kim agreed when I showed her later that night. In fact, she thought it was downright divine and couldn’t have been MORE CLEARLY MEANT for me. “God is speaking YOUR language,” she beamed.Amazing.In my next post, I’ll share the significant events that have occurred since finding that Control Key. And brace yourselves. It won’t be brief.
Eric Nentrup 