tiny coincidences

Have you seen the Sondra Bullock movie called “Hope Floats?” Sondra’s character is in her early thirties, and her mom dies suddenly of a heart attack. There’s a scene where things are going perfectly for Sondra’s character, and you can hear her say in her head:

“Okay, Momma, stop pushin’.”

Though her mom is dead, the character can clearly feel her mom’s presence, influence, connection.

I’ve had some similar encounters of late. Honestly, the more I think about my dad and the man he was and his character, the more I feel myself. More thoughts of my dad, not less, allow me to move forward. I think about the freedom he found in life and how he spilled love out to so many people, and I’m able to press on.

For those of you who have lost a loved one, you’ve probably experienced these tiny coincidences, where something occurs and you know you’re supposed to be thinking of that person, you know you’re exactly where you should be, you know somehow you’re loved even in their absence.

My fiancé Drew, a fellow Aggie, suggested a long time ago that we pick an Aggie road game and go, now that we’re in the SEC. The schedule came out and we started talking about it in May, and made definite plans over the summer to attend the Alabama vs A&M game. We ended up road tripping together, and I felt a bit silly for following through with such fun plans with so much going on with my grandfather. (In the wake of my dad’s death, everything with his side of the family turned to a complete, tragic mess.) 

However, we went to Alabama and I tried to smile and enjoy time away with just Drew.

As we entered the stadium, I realized that during the last Aggie game I attended, my dad was taking his last breaths. It was hard, sure, but I knew how much Dad loved Drew and was beyond happy I had found such love. I knew he would be horrified if I had canceled fun plans and just stayed home to be sad. I kept breathing in and out and was determined to have a great time. My fiancé, so patient and understanding, deserved more than a constantly weepy future wife.

We climbed the stairs to our seats and side-stepped down the row. I couldn’t help but feel very excited to be in this famous stadium, about an hour before sunset, the sky blue and the world turning orange around us. The breeze was blowing and fans around us were pumped. It was going to be a fun game, for sure. I felt glad to be there already.

There were two couples sitting together in front of us. They turned and asked if I would take their picture, then handed me their phone. As I handed it back, one of the guys smiled up at me.

“Are you Tom’s daughter?” he asked with a huge grin. Drew told me later how he got nervous, because he feared this guy did not know the news of Dad’s death since he was so cheerful.

I smiled and nodded, forgetting entirely to be sad and just thrilled to talk of my dad. “Yes!!”

He turned to face me a bit more. “I was at your dad’s service, and you did a great job speaking. So did your brother. Your dad was a great, great guy.”

Wait, what? This guy did not look familiar. I was a long car ride from Texas, surrounded by thousands of strangers, and the dude in front of me knew my dad, knew Tom. He had never met me but recognized me from speaking at my dad’s service. How was this real?  

We went on talking, to find that this guy was a third year New York Life agent, and my dad had led several trainings he attended. My dad was the Agent of the Year in 2011, so he’d also heard him speak and seen him at some annual award stuff. This guy was a young Aggie and had traveled with his wife and another couple to the game.

“Your dad was an incredible man. How’s your mom doing? How are y’all?”

I thanked him for saying hello and told him it meant a lot as he turned back to the stadium. The teams prepared to start the game.

My face was all lit up, I am sure, at the chance to talk about my dad and see his impact on people I’d never even heard of. Drew put his arm around me and squeezed me tight. “Such a small world.” He whispered.

I couldn’t wait to tell my mom and brother about this small world encounter.

My mom texted back right away. “That’s your dad, sweet girl, telling you to have fun!”

I don’t know enough about scripture to know if that’s the Holy Spirit, or my dad’s presence, or what, but, I do know this:  the Holy Spirit moves in us and is with us always, and perhaps knows how much I need to be reminded of my dad, need to be told it’s okay to smile, need to know he would want more than anything for the three of us to keep living.

Maybe atheists or others afraid to believe in things bigger than themselves would chalk this up to coincidence. But, I cannot believe that the odds of finding someone who attended my dad’s memorial service are anywhere near reasonable, in that giant stadium. I cannot believe its just chance. I think the God who created stars and causes the leaves to change and made the ocean so beautifully blue is desperate to love us, too. Desperate for us to draw near to Him.

I have been so blessed by others as I attempt to grieve for my dad, to pick up the pieces, celebrate his legacy, and prepare to keep living. I have been blessed by close friends I’ve known for decades, (how are we so old?!) and strangers in faraway football stadiums. My family has been so taken care of, and I do not think that’s chance. I forget too easily how much God yearns for us to talk to him, to worship him, to seek him. And for whatever reason, running in to a stranger who joyfully asked me “Are you Tom’s daughter” reminded me to thank God everyday that yes, I am Tom’s daughter.

We are all, thankfully, also God’s daughters and sons.

“You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus.”  Galatians 3:26a