I woke up this morning thinking about something that happened to me a few years ago. I had gone to a university for a week-long summer school. I was doing a course in creative writing, and was all ready with my script-idea for the play I wanted to write.
On the Monday, I came back in to the hall of residents after my first day of lectures and got chatting to the lady in the room opposite. “What course are you doing?”
“It’s a course called Time for Yourself,” she told me. I must have looked puzzled because she went on: “It’s all aromatherapy and this crystal healing? …”
“Oh,” I said. I headed into my room and waited to go to the welcome reception at 5 o’clock.
I had a bad feeling about this crystal healing, as I would about any form of healing that asks you to put your faith in something like crystals and doesn’t have Jesus at the centre, so I prayed about it. I don’t remember my exact words, but they were something like: Lord, I feel really uneasy about this. Please show Barbara that it’s wrong. I told no one what I had prayed, and I never met Barbara again.
A few days passed, and I was about to leave. As I washed my hands in the ladies’ loo, I got talking to someone who said she was a tutor, so I asked what she taught. “Time for Yourself.”
“I had a room opposite someone on that course. Barbara?”
“Oh, Barbara … She decided not to do the course after all. On the opening night, she got talking to another tutor and decided to do their course instead.”