Our theme for the month of October is “flash nonfiction.” Writers were asked to submit pieces that were 250 words or less.
God, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
This past Sunday, on a late drive home, I saw a shooting star. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me as the shimmering glint of light cut through the blackness ahead of my windshield. But there it was.
When I was younger I used to pray for signs. I’ve always yearned for clarity. And with so many uncertainties in my life right now, I find myself yearning once more. My prayers contain a lot of questions; my late-night drives contain both.
Then, this past Sunday, in the midst of that wondering came a symbol of good luck. But maybe it was more than just a sign. A little answered prayer, perhaps.
God, I don’t know where I’m meant to be.
Seven days prior, I was sitting in church by myself. Meaningful connection has been a challenge since returning to in-person worship. As the service transitioned into a period of quiet reflection before communion, I pondered my loneliness. I swallowed the bread despite the lump in my throat.
When the last song was over, I sat down to gather my belongings. I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. As my eyes drifted upward, a smiling face looked back at me.
“Hey, I’m not sure I’ve met you before. What’s your name?”
God, don’t let me miss these little answered prayers.
Kayleigh (Fongers) Van Wyk (’18) graduated with a degree in writing and resides in West Michigan. She works as a reporter for the Grand Rapids Business Journal and Grand Rapids Magazine while also making time for freelance writing. When she’s not behind a screen, she enjoys going for walks, eating ice cream, and buying more books than she’ll ever read.
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“My prayers contain a lot of questions; my late-night drives contain both.” Cars can be the perfect place for honesty with both yourself and God—something about the stillness of a late-night drive always pushes me to say things I otherwise might hide. Love you’ve captured that.