I don’t believe it’s coincidence. My very social child is grieving the first deep loss of her seven-year life. No one has died but her classmate friend and neighbor since age four is moving away. Meanwhile, a first grade girl with a five-year-old brother and one-year-old twin siblings moves in across the street. My daughter is a girl who cherishes babies, dogs, hamsters, anything that breathes and can be cared for and named (but preferably hugged). I see her across the street holding one of the babies and jumping on the trampoline with the children of this new family and I know her emptied cup is getting full again.
I don’t believe it’s coincidence that when the breadwinner of a family loses a job that it just so happens that their chickens are laying eggs so prolifically, so abundantly that they are giving them away. They invited us to their generous table for a brunch of quiche and deviled eggs. These are friends who give when it’s hard and inconvenient because their inclination is to share. They took all four of us in for days when six years ago an ice storm left us in the very literal cold.
These are the custom-fit provisions of God from his full and gracious hand.