The Hand of God

When it comes down to religious fervor, I'm not not exactly a zealot, but I do recognize the hand of God in my own life and often in the lives of those around me. Take something that happened this past weekend. We were at the wedding of our neighbor's son who was being married in the Basilica of St. Lawrence in Asheville, NC. Our grandson, who is a goldsmith, had refurbished a ring for the groom out of the wedding ring of his deceased grandfather. The ring had been given to the groom by his own mother who tenderly wanted her father to be present in some way at his grandson's wedding. The priest, a family friend of the groom's family, who performed the ceremony, incorrectly called the groom "Jim", not once but twice. At a brief interlude in the ceremony, the groom stepped over to the priest and whispered in his ear his correct name. The family, watching all of this from the church pews, were somewhat stunned that this priest who new the groom very well had made such a mistake. The embarrassed priest, apologized and begged forgiveness for his responsibility in causing "one of the little things that can go wrong at a wedding." Even he did not recognize the hand of God until later at the reception when the story circulated that the groom's deceased grandfather, whose ring the groom now wore on his left hand, was named "Jim."