Six of One, a Half Dozen of the Other

There is something about me and sixes and decades and twos and such.

Once I traded in my new license plate because it had three sixes on it. So this ain’t about the devil.

In 1976 (the Bicentennial Year, which if you haven’t experienced you must try and live til the Tricentennial, make that your lofty goal), I both graduated from high school and started dating the same guy who still changes my oil and steals my covers.

In 1986 my beloved father died of lung cancer at the very young age of 53.

In 1996, I met Jesus because I would have probably died if I hadn’t. I had young kids and was half crazy and still mourning my dad. I cried out to him in half anger, half desperation, half unbelief. (I know that’s three halves. It’s my writer’s prerogative). He really showed up. Who knew God did things like that?

In 2006 nothing happened. That I can remember. I was a Children’s Minister at a big local church, a job I loved and was called to. I guess something happened. My rememberer just ain’t that great.

This is 2016. I think many of us realize that something way beyond our vision and the TV screen full of talking and yelling heads is happening. Something in the heavenlies. Something cosmic and epic. Jesus told me this would be “the year”. I wish he had told me what year, but he just told me to look at the sixes.

The twos are also special to me. I was married on May 22, 1982. I have two kids. My son was born at 2:22AM. It goes on, just not as obviously.

I guess this post is about looking for clues. Clues into your future, into your past. Life is a great scavenger hunt, and the one hiding the clues is always good and cares deeply that your adventure is personal and intimate and that you discover him in the hunt.

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