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I believe God uses synchronicity and coincidence to speak to us. I don’t believe God’s Word has been encapsulated and is therefore limited to the pages of a single book. Of course, this opinion this may get me into trouble with some folks, however I have to confess I see evidence of Divinity at work everywhere, all the time. To be more direct, I believe God is in everything, everywhere–otherwise there is a limit on God, is there not?

To this last point, years ago I dove into a passionate theological debate with the older brother of a very dear friend of mine. Actually, the brother happened to be a father; a ordained Roman Catholic priest. I told him my understanding of God-Divinity included omnipresence; God is everywhere. He agreed–at first. Then, holding up a piece of silverware, I took him to, “God is this fork.” That did it.

“Nonono. God is not the fork, but only through God can the fork exist,” he said.

I said, “Well then there is something God isn’t, and therefore God has limits, and frankly, I just don’t believe that’s true.”

Around and around we went, each trying to convince the other. It was a wonderful bout of theological tug-of-war. Our other friends in our dinner party would occasionally listen in, but none wanted to commit to getting messy with us.

My priest friend agreed God was limitless and all powerful, but we never reached an agreement that God’s limits didn’t stop at the surface of that fork. I’m sure I ended up on his prayer list after that.

Over the years, I have had the good fortune of ending up on many prayer lists. This usually happens–not often during the dark times in my life–but more when a friend feels I’m off in the bushes, spiritually. For instance, when my wife and I became pregnant with our first child, I was added to a prayer list or two, mostly because those who knew us figured we were heading toward a train wreck. At that time, we had only dated a month and a half and our nubile relationship had been fiery and tempestuous. In fact, my wife had fully intended to break up with me on the day she found out she was pregnant. We had a raging fight the previous evening, which climaxed in the slamming my front door as she left for her apartment across town. Alone, I paced the house trying to decide whether to call or not to call. After 10 minutes, I concluded I would call. I picked up the phone, dialed her number, and heard someone dialing the phone in my ear.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello,” I returned.

“Whoa. That’s creepy. I just picked up the phone–it never rang.”

(As she would confess later, she wasn’t calling me–she was calling her ex-fiancé, whom had only been her ex-fiancé for about two months. Do the math. Indeed, synchronicity seemed to have reached out and placed me in front of her. The timing was perfect. She told me had I called a moment before or a moment later, she would have refused to pick up the phone.)

I said I wanted to come over to her apartment to talk. She hesitantly agreed. (This was before years of counseling would teach me about the futility of pursuing during storms.)

Suffice it to say the face-to-face approach–while tensions were so high–did little to mend the rift between us that night. I eventually said the wrong thing and she asked me to leave amidst sobbing and tears.

[At this point in our story, you should know my wife had been recently told by a psychic friend she would be pregnant by the end of summer. This same friend had already correctly predicted the end to Grace's engagement (which had been met with incredulity,) so Grace was already watching for any incoming babies.]

The next morning marked the last day of summer that year. I believe it was September 21, 2004. I received a call at 7:30 that morning. She said, “There’s two lines.” I had no idea what she was talking about and she had not yet told me about this prediction. I thought for a moment she was referring to lines drawn in the sand. She was forced to clarify.

“I took a pregnancy test. There’s two lines.”

“Oh. I’ll be right over.”

By 7:45, I was sitting on the edge of her couch with the oracular “pee-stick” in my hands and what I saw confirmed it: two lines.

As I discovered, all sorts of thoughts rush in at a time like this. I hail from good, conservative Catholic stock. No doubt this pregnancy-out-of-wedlock would rock the family with scandal. I felt a number of things all at once. Among those feelings were astonishment, shame, alarm and budding resignation, in that order. As we talked about what to do next, the only thing that was clear in that moment was that I was going to be a father, God willing. Grace knew my staunch pro-life views and later would ask how I would have dealt with things had we not decided to stick together in the relationship, especially if she had not wanted to keep the baby. I told her I would have asked her to carry to full term and then I would have taken the child off her hands and made the best of being a single parent. She was apparently pleased by this.

We walked into work side-by-side that morning. Her apartment was only two blocks away from our office building. Throughout the day, we would email each other. At one point, we walked over to St. Mary’s cathedral, sat in the echoing silence and prayed. Afterward, we went outside and sat on the steps. It was that moment I think we decided to make a serious go of our relationship. We made plans to visit Target that evening and pick up a wonderful book called “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” Within a month, we also began seeing a professional counselor with the intent of working through our childhood junk so we might stabilize as a couple.

That was over five years and three kids ago. At the time of this writing, we’re pregnant with Number Four. We attended counseling for years, sometimes as a couple, but more often on our own. We’ve read books on parenting. We’ve watched shows on parenting. We’ve even taken a class on parenting. We love our children very much and are keenly aware of the herculean responsibility that comes along with bringing them into this world. We try our best and we try not to beat ourselves up when we fall short (and we do.)

Would I have ever seen my life going down this path? No. But just as I believe God is the fork, I also believe God is the journey and while I may not have foreseen this particular fork in the road, I certainly see Divine Design all through it.

Thank you to all of those who have ever placed me on their prayer lists.

I think it’s working.