The first time I ever heard of John Prine was when he was referenced in the song "Thrift Store Chair" by Everclear. I was intrigued.
This happened to be during the heyday of Napster, so I downloaded a few John Prine songs, but never sat still long enough to give him a chance. So, he continued to be a name that was familiar because of the Everclear song, but that was it.
Not long ago, I learned that John Prine was in the hospital for COVID-19, and later learned that he died. A day or two later, he was discussed on a podcast, where I heard a few of his best songs for the first time. Now, I've run several miles listening to his first album, and let it play while working a jigsaw puzzle.
If I'm going to become a legit John Prine fan, I still have a long way to go, but there is something haunting about playing an album from 1971, for the first time, in 2020.
Isn't that magical?
A human being records something from within, and that something becomes a message in a bottle that might go anywhere, could be received by anyone, who knows when. And it might mean something special to someone at a unique time.
"Hello in There" hit me differently after my widowed father-in-law's passing than it might have at some other time.
Is this random?
Does God somehow connect us with things we need to see and hear, if we are watching and listening?
I don't know if He does, but I do know this: He is with me when I am feeling whatever I am feeling, He gets why things connect with me the way they do, and for His understanding, I am grateful.
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