This week I attended a gathering to celebrate a bride before she marries. Each person told a story about how they know her, and the connection they feel with her. Out of the context of that circle of women, the memories may have seemed like the bits of a machine that a curious preteen took apart and couldn't reassemble. But as they were fitted together to honor this woman and articulate her impact on each of us, those details crescendoed in relevance. Listening to each vignette I had a sense that she had been faithfully led all along, and more than likely would be next month too.

Looking back on some of the random pieces of my life, they slide into position. Having a mother who struggled with mania upped my compassion for people who grapple with mental illness. Living below the poverty line taught me both frugality and gratitude. My father was the most significant man in my childhood and left his lucrative job in the automotive industry to become a minister. That decision wove a love for the Word into my heart before it grew less permeable. The fact that I never dated anyone before John meant that all my romantic history is with him. 

Some of those circumstances would not have been my first choice, had I been filling out a survey for "What is your ideal life?" But in retrospect they are irreplaceable ingredients in who I am. Someone smarter than me was writing the script. Good thing. 

Perhaps there is a part of me that wishes for a life that squeezes out as smoothly as toothpaste. No surprises, no lumps. But witnessing God construct a marriage out of broken parts keeps my attention better than the morning tube squeeze.