I was digging through my desk at school the other day to clean it out a little bit before the summer and I found this:
This is a local magazine from my hometown that is actually pretty good. I kept the Christmas edition because I have a sentimental attachment to Rudolph the Red Nosed Pumping Unit and there was an adorable picture of it on the cover. There are rumors that since our local plant got bought out, they might discontinue the local Rudolph tradition.
Well, I was flipping through the magazine again when I found this at the back:
And I remembered. I remembered how my eyes got big when I saw this handsome man teaching little girls to shoot guns. Talk about attractive! Then I remembered how I thought his last name was weird. I had never in my life encountered that particular surname, and I thought 'oh the poor girl who marries him and gets THAT last name!' I thought he looks like a pretty cool guy, and LOOK at that red hair. (Ginger babies!) But probably married.
Fast forward to 3 months later and I met that guy in the magazine. Five months later, I'm that girl who's going to end up with that last name one day. I'm the girl who fell in love with those sweet little girls, and wipes tears, and combs out their hair (which is a heck of a lot more complicated than you fellow white girls can even imagine!). I'm the girl who gets to dance with that red bearded Scots on a porch while everyone cleans up after a wedding. I'm the girl who fell in love with the most unconventional man in a cowboy hat that one article doesn't even begin to explain.
Irony? Serendipity? I don't know, but it was definitely a weird moment. A little moment of God saying, 'hey, remember me? I got this. I knew all along.'
There really is no such thing as coincidence.
