The signs

I'm wondering whether I should be taking notice. The strangest things have been happening to me. But, in order for this story to make sense, I need to backtrack a little and give a quick overview of my religious beliefs. Quick, religious - those two don't really belong in a sentence together. I'll try though. I am definitely not a believer in organised religion. My jury is out on whether there's a nice, friendly, bearded old man floating around in the clouds above (be he in a Catholic robe, Jewish kippah or Muslim jubba). I do believe in the fact that there is something bigger than us and, certainly, a whole lot of spiritual stuff.

I also believe that church provides people with a sense of community. My mother, for instance, is a regular church goer, and it makes her happy. It's a whole other social circle (she is very sociable) and she doesn't spread damnation and fury to those of us (the rest of the family) who choose not to go. She did bribe me as a teenager, though, to go - allowing me to drive there. That's another story, though. I do also believe that religion is the root of a lot of the troubles of the world but realise that's the fundamentalists etc and, again, that's a whole other story. Mostly, I think we have brains to think, and that's what we should do. I'm sure that gives some idea of where I stand.

Now to the actual story. On Thursday last week, there I was, sat at my kitchen table, wading through the piles of Spar pamphlets, Estate Agent letters begging to evaluate my house, and frightening looking window envelopes when suddenly, lo and behold, a hand-addressed envelope (for me!) fell from the pile. My heart filled with glee as I ripped it open, only to have a small booklet fall out of it. No letter, just the book. Called The Book of John. One of those things that normally get thrust at you on pavements, namelessly, by people wearing I Love Jesus t-shirts. But this was addressed to me (handwritten).

I thought it a bit strange but carried on, regardless.

Then on Sunday, I was packing my CDs and tapes (yes! I soul-wrenchingly went through the tapes that I've been lugging about and dedicatedly collecting dust on for years and threw out most of them, keeping only a few, prized mixed tapes... sigh) in preparation for the Big Move in The Great Floor Saga. There, amongst the tapes, in a back corner of the shelf was a well-used little booklet, taped together with sticky tape (that well-worn) of Muslim wisdom, half written in Arabic, half written in English. I kid you not. I have NO idea where it came from, or how long it's been there. As I said, the tapes have, well, just been collecting dust for the past, oh, six years or so.

Again, I thought it a bit strange but carried on, regardless.

Yesterday I heard my phone do it's little chime thing to indicate a message. It was an unknown number. The message said:

Please Call Man of God

Seriously. Is someone trying to tell me something?