the grand weaver

While reading the grand weaver by ravi zacharias I found this story and really liked it.

In September 1985, Readers Digest ran a story titled "Letter in the Wallet," Written by Arnold Fine. Fine tells how one bitterly cold day he stumbled upon a wallet on the street. It had just three dollars in it and a crumpled-up letter that obviously had been carried around for many years. The letter was dated sixty years earlier and began, "Dear Michael." The beautifully 's written, sadly worded letter ended a romance because of a parents demands. The last line promised, "I will always love you, Michael," and was signed, "Yours, Hannah."
Fine decided to try to track down the owner of the wallet. Using Hannah's address, still legible on the letter, he finally retrieved a telephone number. But when he called it, he was disappointed to learn that Hannah and her family had long ago moved out of the house. The person on the other end of the line, however, knew the name of the nursing home to which Hannah's mother had gone. So Fine called the nursing home and learned that Hannah's mother was no longer living. When he told them what he was trying to do, however, they gave him the address and telephone number they had one file for Hannah. He called the number and found out that Hannah herself now lived in a nursing home. Soon he was able to confirm that,yes, Hannah was a resident there. As soon as he could, Fine decided to visit the nursing home and try to talk with Hannah.
The director met him at the door and told him that Hannah was watching television on the third floor. An escort quickly took Fine there and then left. Fine introduced himself to Hannah and explained how he had found the letter in a wallet. He showed her the letter and asked if she was the one who had written it.
"Yes," Hannah replied, "I sent this letter to Michael because I was only 16 and my mother wouldnt let us see each other anymore. He was very handsome, you know, like Sean Connery." Fine could see both twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face that spoke of her love for Michael. "Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If your find him, tell him that I think of him often and never did marry anyone. No one ever matched up to him," she declared, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes. Fine thanked her for her time and left.
As Mr. Fine was leaving the home, the security guard at the door asked him about his visit. "There's a Mike Goldstein who lives here on the eighth floor." Fine turned around and went back inside, this time to the eighth floor, where he asked for Michael Goldstein. When directed to an elderly gentleman, he asked the man, "Have you lost your wallet?"
"Oh, yes, I lost it when I was out for a walk the other day," Michael answered.
Fine handed him the wallet and asked if it was his. Michael was delighted to see it again and, full of gratitude to the finder, proceeded to thank him for returning it when Fine interrupted him.
"I have something to tell you," Fine admitted. "I read the letter in your wallet."
Caught off guard, Michael paused for a moment and then asked, "You read the letter?"
"Yes, sir, and I have further news for you, "Fine continued. "I think I know where Hannah is." Michael grew pale. "You know where she is? How is she?"
"She's fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her."
"Could you tell me where she is? I would love to call her. You know, when that letter came to me, my life ended. I have never gotten married. I never stopped loving her."
"Come with me," said Fine. He took Michael by the elbow and led him to the elevator and down to the third floor. By this time, the director of the building had rejoined them. They came to Hannah's room.
"Hannah," the director whispered, gesturing toward Michael, "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses and looked at the man as she searched her memory bank. Then with a choked voice, Michael spoke up. "Hannah, its Michael." She stood, as he walked over to her. They embraced and held on to each other for as long as they could stay steady on their feet. They sat down, holding hands, and between their tears they filled in the story of long years that had passed. Feeling as though they had intruded on a sacred moment, Mr. Fine and the director slowly slipped away to leave the two alone to enjoy their reunion.
Three weeks later, Arnold Fine received an invitation to attend the wedding of Hannah, 76, and Michael, 78. Fine closes his story by saying, "How good the work of the Lord is."
"Such a touching story can make one believe that it had to have been made in heaven. But think about it. Made in heaven it could be; the work of a sovereign God leaves all of us overwhelmed at the way God weaves the threads. At the same time, three determined wills all played a role here. A man loved his girl so much that he stayed faithful to her and remained single his whole life because he could not love another woman in this same way. A woman remained true to her first love, thought she had been just a teenager, and she committed to honoring her parents' wishes. A man had resolved to return a wallet because he thought a poignant little letter kept for 60yrs merited a determined search for the owner.
The will is a strong but fragile part of every human life, and it matters in the rich weaving of your tapestry that is in the making."

25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Matthew 6:25-27

Friday morning I woke up and shoved my Bible into my backpack. I was kind of frustrated because I wanted to have a quite time but knew that with my vast amount of english homework I probably wouldn't have time. World Lit homework usually consists of opening up my colossal World Lit and reading some greek play then writing commentary on it. But friday morning was different. I opened my book up to the assigned pages and realized that we were randomly reading the sermon on the mount. I smiled and laughed while sending up a thankful prayer.
It's so neat how God speaks to me through everything, even the silence.
Tuesday night I went to breakaway and ironically the topic was the sermon on the mount. It's at moments like these that I am at awe how God works. I think sometimes skepticism gets the best of me- I quickly write off these moments as random coincidences- as if things accidentally happen. I think my lack of acknowledgement of these events is a result of a lack of faith. In my heart I can't accept that God is really a personal God. I dont have faith that He really cares about my struggles and that He is in control. Its a never ending lesson.