Adam never really felt in control of his life. Whenever he would make a decision, someone or something would ensure his decision was never carried out. The first time he remembered making a decision for himself was in third grade. He wanted more than anything to play the french horn. It was such a beautiful sounding instrument that could be used in both band and orchestra. His music teacher handed him a clarinet. Then in sixth grade, he wanted to be the stage manager for the class play. He loved helping behind the scenes. It also meant that he would never have to speak in front of the audience. His English teacher gave him the leading role.
Even as an adult, Adam never really felt in control of his life. He decided to apply for a position at Harris, Jackson, and Givens but his car would not start, the bus passed him without even slowing down, and the taxi took the long way around and ended up with a flat tire nearly twenty miles away from his destination.
One evening, after a waiter spilled soup all over his date’s new dress making her storm out of the restaurant, he stopped by his church.
“Why does nothing work out for me, Father Michael?”
“It is not for us to question His plan, Adam.”
“Yeah, but –”
“Accept what is, and be happy for it. You are young, healthy, and I am sure it will all work out in the end.”
Adam sat in the pew and sighed. He wasn’t so sure. On his way out of the church he picked up a business card that someone had dropped.
“Are you lost? Not in control of your life? Just ask and help will be sent immediately,” he read to himself.
He flipped the card over and it was blank. That was all that the card read. Weird. Just ask, he thought. Ask who?
Adam thought about the card, and what Father Michael said about not questioning, but surely he just didn’t understand. Nothing had ever been up to Adam, had it? He sat in his living room flipping the card over and over again thinking about his life.
He took a deep breath and sighed. “Fine,” he said to thin air, “Can I have some help please?”
A knock on the door startled Adam. He looked at the clock. Midnight. He didn’t realize it was that late. There were three more knocks on the door and a shiver crept up his spine. His mother always said to beware those that knock three times. Father Michael’s voice played in his head.
“Don’t answer it,” he told himself.
He stood up and moved to the door as if someone was pulling his strings. No matter how much he resisted, he could not stop his hand from reaching for the door knob and turning it. Nothing could stop his arm from pulling the door open. And nothing could stop him from wishing he had followed Father Michael’s advice to not question someone else’s decisions.