My 14-year-old daughter keeps thinking she's catching me believing in God.
Rather than agonize over whether we should play tennis or go to the beach, I'll suggest we'll see whether or not there are any courts open.
"We'll let God decide," I'll say.
"See, Mom!?" she'll say.
It's just a figure of speech!
Except, I increasingly do listen and feel for and believe I will find what is right and who is right and find myself where I know I belong.
Like Monday in Phoenix, when in the middle of a momentous company retreat, a monsoon came through and knocked the power out across a swath of the city, including our meeting place and also our hotel, forcing us to see how we handle utterly unexpected and inconvenience and potential derailment.
(We handle it by cheerfully touring Irish pubs that seem immune to the power outage—do they burn peat in the cellar?
and why are there multiple Irish pubs in Phoenix anyway?—until the power returns, around midnight. The next day we reconvene, significantly better connected for the experience.)
Now, I realize that God does not become involved in creating elaborate and realistic team-building exercises for small companies. And of course, another guy just had a tree fall on his house in the monsoon, another guy had a bad accident thanks to the black traffic lights, and the hotel staff had a team-building exercise they could have down without.
Who gets what they need?
We'll let God decide.