Do you care what time it is in Uganda? I never thought much of the time zone on the far side of the globe until my eighteen-year-old granddaughter left for the pearl of Africa last month. In spite of the era of instant communication on our planet, she has limited opportunity to connect with home. Although, she did let us know she and a portion of her missions team contracted malaria.
Five o’clock dawn shakes my daughter, the missionary mom. Holy Spirit whispers won’t allow her to remain deep in blanket comfort. Inside guidance moves her downstairs to the computer, not the usual daybreak routine. She opens her facebook. Only one minute before, granddaughter logged in.
“Is it really you?” they cyber-speak in unison. An ocean vast but heart waves hear. Joy tears connect mother and daughter 8000 miles, 8 hours apart. And so begins a good day . . . .
Breathe and believe.
Mr. Webster defines a coincidence “a chance occurrence of events remarkable for being simultaneous.” If I decide to write a dictionary it will read, when mercy moments collide perfectly.
Almighty keeper of time and space, the One who wound the first clock.
Coincidence and Sovereignty don’t mix. Only the scattering of miracles.
Once, on October night 2000, husband Jeff carved in his workshop on the lower level of our home. Two floors away, I am busy in the sewing room. We both finished work at the same time and joined each other in front of the fireplace. Within ten minutes, he suffered a massive heart attack. I was there for needed CPR. And he lives.
Once upon another October night 2002, awakened from stillness of sleep to pray for a son who didn’t come home. Pleading on knees, within the half hour, the hospital chaplain called to say we were to come and identify a John Doe who may be our son. And he lives.
The unforgettable January afternoon in 1979. Pregnant with our fourth child, a month before due, no symptoms of labor, only a holy stir to leave for the hospital in the middle of a snowstorm. Later, I’m told he is a half hour from stillbirth. I’m asked how I knew to come in that moment. And he lives.
We can’t make our own coincidences happen. Try.
May we meditate on the divines that touch our lives, sometimes elusive, sometimes clear.
And your ear shall hear behind you. This is the way walk in it. Isaiah 30:21