Bing: A wool blanket of stratus clouds covered the sky, except for a small opening that allowed laser-like streaming rays to beam down on the intersection at Sacred Cross (the place Joey last stood and was “beamed up”). Like a spotlight trained on a dark stage before the star would emerge from behind the curtain, I looked up at the heavenly gap and spontaneously prayed, “I don’t know if this is a thing, God, but could you just give Joey a hug from me? A sweet embrace from his momma?” It wasn’t even a little bit premeditated—and it had never occurred to me to ask for such a thing. After the “Can-you-do-me-this-solid?” innocent prayer, it crossed my mind: Was this request a teeny bit heretical, or even possible and, if possible, kinda kosher?
Bang: A moment later, a young man in a dark hoodie walked up, crossed the intersection, and walked right in front of me. I swear I wasn’t looking for it, but I saw in his face a teenage Joey. He could have been his twin. He even had a mop of wild hair peeking out the edges of his hoodie, the way Joey’s curls could not be contained.
I was stunned at the likeness–and the timing, and the location.
(I couldn’t-but-I-could believe that God just did this thing for me. Again. I had completely forgotten the last time I visited Sacred Cross. I had asked for a favor, and God just did it.)
Boom: I began to peddle away from Sacred Cross and heard the chime of my phone: A longish text from a lifetime friend. Toward the end, he wrote: “..But sometimes, I pray that on a walk or on a bike ride or sitting at a window, that the sunshine hits you just right & you know … whatever it is you need to know in that very moment, that YOU KNOW.”
I KNOW.
I know God gave Joey a squeeze from me today.
Bing.
Bang.
Boom.