Yourdictionary.com describes a Godwink as: “An event or personal experience, often identified as a coincidence, so astonishing that it is seen as a sign of divine intervention, especially when perceived as the answer to a prayer.”

Everyone I knew growing up said they were Christian, and I thought that was what I was, too, kind of like being a Christian by osmosis. I was one, because everybody else said they were one, and what else would I be?  

I suspect that some churchgoing was a social expectation for my parents when they were children. People lived within a few miles of where they were born and didn’t travel outside their area much, especially in rural communities. Roads were a mishmash of paved, gravel, and bare dirt until the US Interstate system began in 1956 (completed in 1976). Travel by plane was expensive and primarily for businessfolk with good expense accounts. People stayed home, families knew each other, and if you were a churchgoer and didn’t go, your mama would hear about it.

When I was a child, my family wasn’t in the habit of going to church.  We were, at best, CEO’s when it came to churchgoing: Christmas and Easter only. I’m not sure why, except for busy lives and bratty kids to raise (me and my brother, mostly him, of course).

My husband’s family was in church ‘anytime the doors were opened’, meaning Sunday mornings, evenings, Wednesday nights, and revival weekends. I envy that.

Despite my lack of formal churching, I had a few Godwink nudges throughout my childhood. I remember as a little girl sleeping on the edge of the bed because I figured Jesus needed a place to sleep, and he was a big grown-up. I have no clue where I got that idea, but I still sleep on the edge!

There was a big blue Bible Stories book at the dentist’s office. It was a thick book like an encyclopedia, and I mostly looked at the pictures. I’d like to think I was seeking Jesus, but it may have been that I was looking for Jesus to save me from the dentist.  Just kidding.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

One Halloween, I was trick-or-treating in my neighborhood (remember those plastic masks with the elastic that broke as soon as you left the house?  Good times).  Kids would backtrack to the groups behind them and report on the houses with the best candy.

One house had torn-up pieces of plastic and rubber bands littering the front yard.  The other kids warned us to skip that house because they didn’t have candy.  I was curious, so I went anyway, mainly because kids lied about where the good stuff was, so they could go get more. I held out my plastic pumpkin, and they gave me a little bag with a plastic glove inside.  Each finger was a different color and represented a different aspect of Jesus.

I saved that glove for several years and hid it deep in a big paper flower from the Georgia State Fair that year. I would take it out and reread it in secret. I don’t remember what candy I got that year, but I do remember that glove. I found out later in life that it was called the Good News Glove. I am not sure I was what you would consider ‘saved’ at that point, but it planted a seed.  Maybe a seed in rocky soil, but a seed nonetheless.

I called myself a Christian as I grew up, although I didn’t know exactly what it meant nor how to act like one. I remember filling out some application at school when I was a teenager, and under the place marked ‘Religion’ (yep, they had that on applications then) I wrote ‘Babtist’.  One of my teachers pointed at the word and said loudly (at least to me) that I had spelled it wrong.  I’m sure she meant nothing snarky, but I was so embarrassed.  How could I call myself a Christian when I didn’t even know how to spell Baptist?  I didn’t see the difference between denominations and didn’t go to church anyway.

For many years, as a young and not-so-young adult, I read books about all sorts of religious beliefs, mostly not mainstream anything.  The older I got, the more I realized my intentions about what I wanted to accomplish in life didn’t match my actions, and I just kept doing and being the opposite of what I wanted.  I was looking for something or someone to help me.

I believe there is something inside everyone that looks for God.  When you look at the ocean, you can see a curve across the horizon.  Our planet is so small with so many people, so many thoughts and emotions.  There is such beauty in nature and our planet precisely formed so we can breathe, grow food, learn, and enjoy our lives.

How could anyone think all of this was a cosmic accident?  There had to be more.

When I was in my late 30s, I had a flight the next day to a sales presentation.  I was the talking head, and one of the company’s tech guys was meeting me there.  The night before, I was depressed and alone at my home. I drank. A lot. I started feeling so sick and nauseated. It was late, and my flight was early, but here I was sick and throwing up. I was doubting I could make it for my 6:00 a.m. flight, but I had a big presentation I was solely responsible for delivering. A co-worker was flying in from another state to join me. I had to make it.

I don’t know if it was in my mind or real, but I heard cackling.  It was a sound that I had never heard before or since, but I knew it was evil. I asked God for help, and He did. I made it through that night and made it to my flight with an incredible headache. My co-worker Pete met me at a restaurant for breakfast to discuss the presentation, and I was barely hanging on.

I tried making small talk as I silently prayed not to throw up. Pete asked about my flight, and I mentioned I usually read fiction novels, but the airport bookstores weren’t open this early. I had not seen anything interesting lately anyway. Pete suggested a book called Left Behind. I had not heard of it, but I was always on the lookout for new reading material.

Later that day, I made it through the presentation and headed back to the airport. I needed something to keep my mind off my head and stomach, and saw a bookstore. Right there in the front display was the book Pete mentioned, so I bought it and read the first chapter or two on the flight back to Atlanta.

When I got home, I felt a little better. I couldn’t seem to put the book down and continued to read it into the morning until I finished it. That book changed my life.  It explained how to be saved!

I can’t say I became or am the perfect Christian, and a whole lot of times since that day, no one would have known I was finally a saved Christian. I failed a lot. A whole lot. I still do. But I’m learning and leaning on God to show me how to live.

I find that when I am struggling, I am trying too hard to do things in my own strength.  Talking to God and surrendering the outcome to Him is the only way anything works. Sometimes it is not in the way I want or in my timing, but I trust His way is the best. I have to choose to trust.

There is a meme of an angel statue holding her head with her hands. I imagine that is how angels look at me sometimes. But God knew back when I was a little girl that I was His, but He allowed me to come to Him by showing me these Godwinks all throughout my 61 years.  He doesn’t force anyone.

There have been many more Godwinks since then, one being the meeting of my husband. Here’s that story…

I had given up on finding anyone and was planning on eventually moving to a retirement community in Florida. On Valentine’s Day, a Facebook friend of mine made a comment in a post that she had met her husband online.  I was feeling a little down, saw the post, and decided to do a Hail Mary and try one last time.




I joined Elite Singles using a fake name (Janet!).  Mark was on Silver Singles, and (unknown to us) the two companies had merged a couple of years ago. Mark said he had liked my profile a few times but figured I wasn’t interested because I had not responded.

He did notice that I had viewed his profile a few times (I thought he was handsome and a musician!) and he sent me a brief message.  We chatted online a couple of times after I got over my technical difficulties, but no conversation beyond niceties.




Mark decided one day to do a Hail Mary of his own and sent me a message saying he was going to be in my town that Friday and would I join him for dinner or drinks. He was very polite and said he would understand if I thought it was too soon or if I felt uncomfortable.


I was skeptical about trying to find anyone and told God that while I would like to find love, it was OK if that wasn’t meant for me, and I would be OK alone. I texted Mark back that I was very busy that day and might be able to stop by for a quick drink, but I’d have to let him know later if I was coming.



I worked in my yard all day Friday and kept talking to God about how I didn’t want to go. I was tired of the whole first date “job interview with sexual harassment” thing, tired of getting my hopes up, tired of being disappointed. I reminded Him (several times) that I was OK alone.




Later that afternoon, I was so exhausted and drained from the heat (and my mental wrestling) that I told God (again) that I didn’t want to go, but I would if He wanted me to.




Here’s where it gets weird.
I kept hearing little prompts in my head: “Go take a shower”. I did, but I kept telling Him I didn’t want to go.  Then, as I stood in my closet looking for something to wear, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to wear (you women know that feeling). I said, ‘Lord, if you want me to go, you will have to find me something to wear’.  My arms reached out and pulled out an outfit that I actually liked.  OK.  Guess I was going.




By this time it was around 8.  I sent a text to Mark saying I was coming after all, but I could only stay for a little while (still giving myself an out if I needed one). During the drive to the restaurant, I kept talking to God, saying that I didn’t expect anything but the inevitable ‘how soon can I politely leave’.

I asked Him if it wasn’t a match, would He please let Mark be a nice guy with whom I could talk, have a pleasant evening, and maybe even become friends.




I walked in the back door, and at the bar was a tall fellow with broad shoulders in a dark blue shirt with his back to me. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around.  We both smiled really, really big.  I remember gasping a little because he was so handsome.

We talked and laughed nonstop for over two hours.  It was April 15th and we were engaged May 27th. 

We both continue to pray for God’s will and for each other. And we will continue to do so.


God is really, really good.

Jeremiah 29:11 says: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

God is real.

And He never forgot me. Or us,

And God didn’t forget you either.