Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

Over the past two years, a version of this conversation has been repeated many times in our home, usually just late enough that we are awakened by the phone call:

Caller: Is Husband's Name there?

Me: May I ask who is calling?

Caller: Is this the same Husband's Name who went to high school in Nearby Suburb?

Me: No, sorry, you've got the wrong Husband's Name.

Caller: Is he chubby?

Me: (giggle) No.

Caller: Does he have red hair?

Me: (sigh) No.

Caller: He's not chubby with red hair?

Me: No. And we'd be grateful if you'd stop calling.

Caller: (surly now) Geez. You don't have to be so mean!

Me: (sigh, click, yawn) I've got to move the phone to your side of the bed.

Though we have not yet reached the same conclusion, the repeated late-night inquiries are clearly a dead end. For some reason - even though we've asked - he hasn't crossed our number off his list of possibilities. And, despite the annoyance, we've never bothered to go the extra step or two that might finally put an end to this conversation - adding caller id, screening our calls or even pretending to be a chubby redhead, delighted to hear a voice from the past.

I've wondered about the unfinished business the caller has with an old classmate. Is he hoping to reconnect with someone who had been a close friend? Is there an unresolved argument or unpaid debt that, for the caller, rears its head late at night, demanding resolution?

I have my own well-worn list of things that can occasionally keep me up at night - church folks I should check on, financial worries as our oldest visits colleges, conversations I wish I'd had with my dad, my growing dislike for our kitchen cabinets, an ominous noise the car has been making. My grand solutions, all of which seem so plausible in the wee hours of the morning, seem to disappear like smoke in the light of day.

What keeps you up at night? Do you have unfinished business to tend to? Are there folks from your past you'd be glad to hear from again? Who do you call for help?

Something strangely familiar

Our aging van, a hand-me-down purchased from my older brother, needed a repair we couldn't afford. At 200,000+ miles, the end wasn't unexpected, but I was sad to let it go because I'd rather drive an older car that needs an occasional repair than make a monthly payment. We thought our broken-down ride was headed for the junk yard, but the mechanic bought it from us instead for almost nothing and - lo and behold - his brother (also a mechanic) resurrected it in his backyard. Imagine my surprise when I see our old van delivering sandwiches for a super-speedy sandwich shop, pulling up next to us at a stop light, waiting in the same drive-thru lane, or taunting me at the gas station looking better than ever.

Occasionally, its new owner delivers sandwiches to hungry folks at church, pausing just long enough to offer an update about the flagging health of our mutual motorized friend, other junkers he's working on, or news from the neighborhood.

Ours is an unlikely relationship - brought together by a blown
head gasket and roast beef on whole wheat. He's not particularly wowed by me or my work at the church but I am routinely impressed with his ability to diagnose and repair what seems beyond hope. New life comes in surprising ways.

How wonderful to be so differently gifted - mechanics and sandwich makers and pastors all have something valuable to offer.

Do you have any unlikely friends?