“It’s never too late.”
I’m in the car driving the one-mile to Mesa Community College.
“I’m not too old.”
I parked the car and compared the campus to the map. X marks the spot; I see the bell tower building.
“Please, don’t let me do anything stupid.”
I enter the Admissions office. My eyes scan the room. Dozens of perspective students turn their deadpan expressions my way and bore quickly.
“Good, I didn’t make an impression. Now what?”
To my right I spy the computer sign-in system. I add my cell-phone number, sit in the last available seat, and wait. In unbroken sequence, three clerks call four digit numbers, tired eyes scan the room, but no one moves.
“Lord, what are those numbers? What am I to do?”
Someone in the back asks the question that I’m too embarrassed to verbalize.
“Thanks Lord, for nudging that woman instead of me! Now, don’t let me forget my cell number and miss my turn.”
The room feels full. I shouldn’t label but I will. There are gothics, jocks, under-dressed girls, young marrieds, young lovers not married but physically locked together, and one person older than me. Wait, that’s a mother with her daughter. Yes, I’m the oldest student in the room.
“I hope my daughter isn’t bothering you?”
Whew, a welcome distraction glues me to my seat. An adorable two-year old is playing at my feet and her parents want to chat. Before long, I’m sharing with the daddy what I’ve learned from the writer’s conference and dozen books I’ve read on writing fiction. You see; God placed next to me a young man enrolling in the same classes I’ve selected.
“Thanks Lord. Not only did you help me not look foolish but you allowed me to help another who knows less than me. Amazing!”
My number is called and three minutes later I walk out a college student.
“You know Lord, if it’s this easy, I think I’ll go to ASU next year and get a masters in English and then, well who knows what I can do now.”