Sharing a moment...

Something happened recently which I recorded in my journal but didn't think I'd blog about. But Connie over at Faith Barista asked us to share a thought arising from our 'whitespace' (times alone with God). It's quite a long story, but worth recording.
Firstly, my 'whitespace' is often in a church service. I attend a traditional Anglican church: this was God's choice, not my natural comfort zone! My husband and I left our lively evangelical church to help support the vicar with a tiny, elderly congregation, finding it quite challenging. Happiest in a non-denominational, charismatic service, I often find the formal Anglican liturgy...well, less than inspiring. Yet it is often at these 'drier' moments that I have 'God thoughts' which I jot down in a tiny journal I carry with me.  Occasionally, I attend services and events at another church and my 'whitespace' moments may happen in the middle of a lively worship session. They also happen in quieter prayer moments or when I am listening to the Bible reading. They happen most often in church though during a sermon or talk, when God 'speaks' to me quite directly through the words spoken.
That happened to me a week or two ago.
A visiting pastor, who I know slightly, related a story where he had been greatly encouraged. Jon had been adopted as a baby by older parents and was very much loved. His mother died a few years ago and then his father more recently. He talked about how lonely and abandoned he had been feeling since his fathers' death a few months' previously - despite having a loving wife and three beautiful daughters!
One day, Jon had to go home at lunchtime to meet some workmen. Instead of driving home directly, he found himself travelling by a roundabout route and, in the process, came across a visitor struggling with the map. The man was thin, quite bedraggled, almost scruffily dressed, and Portuguese: he spoke almost no English at all. However, he spoke a little French, which Jon is fluent in and so Jon was able to understand where the man wanted to go: to a hotel very near Jon's house. So he offered him a lift.
As soon as they started driving off in Jon's open-top car, the man - 'Pedro' - started pulling all kinds of papers out of a bag he was carrying, which almost started flying away. As Jon negotiated the narrow, winding lanes of our little island of Guernsey, he tried to encourage the man to put them away and managed to arrive at the hotel without losing anything. Arriving, the man motioned for Jon to drive round the back of the hotel into the car park, which made Jon think that perhaps the man had been there before and was maybe returning for a job interview, as our island has quite a few Portuguese people working in the hotel industry.  The man got out, thanking Jon for the lift and had begun to walk off when Jon noticed a crumpled Guernsey £1 note lying on the passenger seat. He picked it up and called to 'Pedro' that he had forgotten it, whereupon Pedro motioned for Jon to keep it, shouting "Pour l'essence!" ('For the fuel'), so Jon put it in his pocket, thanked him and drove off.
Some time later, as Jon was leaving his house, he remembered the note and pulled it out. Inside, folded up into a small rectangle of a few square centimeters, was a piece of paper. On it was written, in French, words to the effect that 'you are my adopted son, you are not alone, I am with you...'
As Jon said this, he looked over at me while he read the words on the paper and I felt tears. I knew God was speaking to me.
Now, I am not adopted but I have been feeling quite alone and burdened in my church situation. I just knew this was a word from God for me, that I did not need to feel alone or discouraged. I thought there might be added confirmation during a prayer time at the end but, as the story had taken a long time to tell, there was just a brief prayer and a closing song.
It didn't matter. I knew God had spoken to me through Jon.
Yet, a few minutes after the end, Jon came over.
"I have a word for you," he said.
"I know!" was my reply. "I saw you look over at me while you were speaking."
He looked a little puzzled, but continued, "I don't know if this makes any sense, but I felt God say this to you: 'Angie —don't fear I am with you. You are not alone. I will not leave you. God hears your cry - his strength is made perfect in weakness. You are supporting someone, which is draining you, but you will not run dry. He will supply a supporting friend - so you can be supported and continue to support too.'
I couldn't stop smiling. God had spoken to me in my 'whitespace' and confirmed it through Jon. I knew I was not alone.
PS the end of Jon's story was that he then rushed back to the hotel, to find no trace of 'Pedro'. He asked us: "Do you think 'Pedro' might possibly have been an angel?"
Hmmm.....