I am one of those people who is fascinated by the concept of coincidences.

I am pretty much a sucker for any story that includes the phrase “what a small world.”

Once upon a time, I believed these seemingly random occurrences that linked a person to someone or something at a particular point in time were just that- random.

However, the older I get and the more I witness and experience them happening, the more convinced I am that these so-called coincidences are something much more magical and important than just happenstance.

As Albert Einstein so aptly explained, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.”

My mom refers to these events as “God moments.”

I cannot tell you how often the two of us will email, text or call with the news “I just had a God moment!” or “You won’t believe this God moment.”

Some of them are big; others small. None of them are insignificant.

I realize when I tell people about these “moments,” some think I am stretching or searching- looking for a deeper meaning to something that simply does not have one.

While I respect their opinions (I let people be wrong whenever they want.), I also feel sad for them because these events bolster my faith on a near daily basis.

Don’t get me wrong- I am all about “the proof.” Maybe it is the lawyer in me, but I want to see evidence to support almost any point someone makes to me.

And these “divine coincidences” are no exception.

Fortunately, God knew that about me long before I ever did.

While in college, I was struggling with some decision or another. Quite frankly, I don’t even recall what it was (proof in itself that whatever it was was not that “earth shattering” after all- but don’t try and tell 20 year old me that!). But, I know for certain that I agonized over it as I so often do, terrified of making the wrong decision- or of making any decision really.

I felt lost and let down, having prayed for an answer and heard nothing in response.

I eventually prayed angrily. Yes, angrily. That part I remember.

“God- How can you leave me without an answer? I am trying so hard to hear what You are telling me, but I hear nothing. If You are trying to tell me something, I am not getting it. I am not like other people. I need something big and obvious. I need a billboard or something. Seriously.”

I recall feeling a little ashamed after that prayer- sort of the way you feel after you raise your voice at your parents. I had been too vocal, too bold, too demanding.

The next day I was driving down a road I had driven down countless times before.

And there is was.

My billboard.

Mine.

I knew it was mine as sure as I knew anything.

 

“All He Asks Is That You Trust Him.”

That was all it said. No advertisement. No fancy graphics.

Eight words.

Eight words that I have since come back to thousands of times in my life.

Eight words that were meant for me- the scared, angry, doubting girl that demanded a billboard.

Even after all this time, I simultaneously laugh and cry every time I think about it.

He gave me my billboard.

And so much more than that.

Because it wasn’t just the answer to whatever question I was struggling with on that particular day- it was ultimately the answer to all my questions.

It is tattoed on my soul.

When I find myself panicking- about my career, my family, my finances, my future- I close my eyes and I repeat those eight words to myself. Several times.

When I do that– and I let myself really hear those words– it is like hitting a reset button.

They remind Type A, control freak me that God doesn’t expect me to to fix it or solve it or find my way out of it or into it.

To the contrary, He just asks that I trust Him with it. All of it.

Since that fateful day, I have been blessed to receive many other “billboards” along the road of my life.

A few months ago I arrived in Raleigh, North Carolina completely worn down and exhausted. I was having the week from hell. A huge presentation in Charlotte followed by oral arguments the following morning before the North Carolina Court of Appeals to be topped off with a return trip to Charlotte to catch a night flight to New Orleans for an early morning deposition (i.e. no beignets or Bourbon Street in that schedule).

The combination of being tired and having a long car ride alone is not a good thing. One can start feeling quite sorry for oneself.

For whatever reason, on that particular night and for those hours in the car, my brain fixated on how sad it was that my stepfather was not alive to know that I was going to argue before the North Carolina Court of Appeals.

Since his love of being a lawyer is what drove me to become a lawyer, those types of moments were particularly bittersweet.

Sweet because I knew he would be so proud of me. He would have absolutely loved it. He would have sent me a card. Called his friends. Called his friends’ friends. Told strangers in the grocery store.

Bitter because there would be no such card or calls. No last minute tips. No “just in case” wake up call (as back up for my iphone alarm, the alarm clock and my wake up call!).

He would have been the person I called as I was driving down the interstate feeling too much fear and too little confidence. He would have answered the phone literally breathless with excitement over the prospect of my upcoming day.

And his attitude would have been contagious.

After the call, I would have walked a little taller and the load I was carrying would have felt a lot lighter.

But on that night, the load just felt heavy and the road long and lonely.

When I checked in, the woman who helped me was nice enough- although clearly on automatic pilot. She gave me her well-worn speech (need a credit card for incidentals, the gym is on the second floor (clearly a standard part of the speech given to everyone as I so did not look like someone who needed that piece of data), breakfast is from 6-10, one room key or two?) and directed me to the elevators.

I returned to the desk a few minutes later to get change for the drink machine.

As she handed me my change, she paused and looked at me- really looked at me- for the first time.

“I need to tell you something.”

As she said it, she looked confused- as though I had said something that did not make sense.

I waited, assuming she had forgotten some piece of her standard speech on the first go round (dry cleaning? the safe? check out? room service?).

She paused.

Her discomfort made no sense to me.

“You are awesome. You really are.”

Now I was the one looking confused.

“What did you say?”

“You are awesome… And I don’t know why, but I really needed to tell you that. Okay?”

I managed a weak “thank you” as my eyes filled with tears.

It was more than okay.

She was my card. She was my call.

She was- my billboard.

And the following morning when my cereal showed up from room service with a mini bottle of ketchup on the tray, all I could do was smile.

My stepfather always brought those bottles back to me when he traveled because my love of ketchup is a long-standing family joke.

A couple of hours later, I walked into the courtroom with a mini ketchup bottle tucked in the pocket of my briefcase feeling nervous- but awesome.

Very, very awesome.

While doubting, demanding, scared me may not know much, I know that God gives each of us these sorts of “billboards.”

A friend or stranger who happens to share a story with you at just the right time.

Unexpected opportunities.

A devotional.

Change.

A note.

Beginnings.

A job posting.

Painful endings.

A chance encounter.

Ketchup bottles.

And for the most stubborn among us, actual billboards.

Be on the lookout- they are there.

All He asks is that you trust Him.