On Tuesday this week a local high school student was killed in a vehicle accident. He had just dropped his younger brothers at their junior high, and had phoned his high school to say he would be a few minutes late.
On my way home last night I popped by the neighbourhood 7/11. Sitting on the curb outside the store were four guys, backs up against the chainlink fence. A group of high school kids. It was about 11pm or so, and a bit rainy. One of them must have recognized our Jeep (my wife, a high school teacher, drives it). He yelled out "Hey, Mr K - W". I didn't know them, and they didn't really know me, since I don't do the whole hyphenated name thing. I walked over to them and we started chatting. One of them grew up in the same neighbourhood as the student who had been killed. They wanted to talk a bit about what had happened.
We talked about this death, about this student, about the impact this is having on them and on their school, about how we are not as tough as we all think we are, about God, about faith, about life.
Outside a convenience store. In the rain.
Only God can arrange appointments like this.