I want to tell you some stories about some amazing coincidences in my life, and I don’t want this to be a religious speech so I’m calling it “Fat Chance.”
I heard a survey result on TV the other day that said 64% of Americans pray daily. So I guess about 64% of Americans would say this is a religious speech about answered prayer; 38% will say, “Wow, what a coincidence.” So whether or not these are answered prayers is up to you. Here are my stories:

Back in the early 60’s my family lived in Colorado. We lived in Alamosa, but we were driving on the highway from Pueblo to Canon City on a sort of semi business trip. Our car stopped; we couldn’t get it started. After a short time – maybe five minutes, a car pulled up to us coming from the west – we were traveling east. Would you believe who was in it! The Wilkins family! Our closest friends from when we lived in Oklahoma City. They had passed us as they were going east from Oklahoma City to visit Patsy’s mother in Carbondale, Colo. Their son, David, had said he saw Carl in the stopped car. They could hardly believe that he could be right but he was convincing enough that they turned around to see. Sure enough it was Carl. Orin helped to get the car started and we were all on our way again.

The second story is about Buttons. You remember, my puppy, the star of my parable “Consider the Puppy.” When he was a little fellow probably less than one year old, he got out of our yard one evening rather late. We tried to find him but it was soon too dark to have any chance. We lived rather close to a canal park area. I thought he might have gone there. Next morning I woke near dawn, got in the car to see if I could find him anywhere. We lived on 113th street where the road T’d into Windmill Road. I don’t know why I didn’t go to the park where I thought he might be, but I decided to go north on Windmill Road. I drove past 114th looking down the street to the east. On to 115th looking east; then I decided to go back to 114th. I turned around and went back turned east and saw a garage door open. A lady was getting in her car to go to work. I stopped and called, “I’ve lost a puppy.” “Oh,” she said, “is he a little brown colored Sitz Tsu? He came by last night and we locked him up in our back yard. Let me get him for you.” How is that for timing? In the time of a garage door going up.

Then there is my ring story. I had lost weight and my ring was loose. I was sitting at my desk talking on the phone, twirling my ring, thinking how good it was that it was loose. It fell off. I finished my call, turned around to pick up my ring. Couldn’t find it. I become rather frantic. It must be there! There is a school bag behind me, nothing else; I look through it. Nothing. It couldn’t have bounced far on my carpeted floor. It has to be there. Look down the air duct. Nothing. Call Krissy and her friend to help me look. They found nothing. Sammy got in the action. Vacuums the floor; carefully goes through the dirt. Nothing. It is not to be found. I become somewhat suspicious. Could Krissy’s friend have found it and taken it home with him? My friend Margaret prayed about it, but I had completely given it up. I had another ring made. Margaret asked me periodically whether or not I had found my ring. She was a stubborn sort. About a year later, Krissy pulled out a box of games which was kept in the cabinet behind my desk. “Oh, gramma!” she said, “Is this your ring?” Sure enough, my wedding ring! In a shoe box filled with Uno, Rook, Go,fish!” How did it get there? I’ll never know.

Truth is, I’m in the 64%. I don’t necessarily believe both Texas/OU are both going to win the same game because both sides are praying desperately. But I do believe the scripture, II Chronicles 16:9, that says the eyes of the Lord look to and fro to do good for his people.

To those in the 38%, isn’t coincidence wonderful!

About oneta hayes

ABOUT ME Hello. To various folks I am Neat’nee, Mom, Grandma Neta, Gramma, Aunt Neta, Aunt Noni, Aunt Neno, and Aunt Neto (lots of varieties from little nieces and nephews). To some I’m more like “Didn’t you used to be my teacher?” or “Don’t I know you from someplace?” To you, perhaps, I am a Fellow Blogger. Not “fellow” like a male or a guy, but “fellow” like a companion or an adventurer. I would choose to be Grandma Blogger, and have you pull up a chair, my website before you, while I tell you of some days of yore. I have experienced life much differently than most of you. It was and is a good life. I hope to share nuggets of appreciation for those who have gone before me and those who come after me. By necessity you are among those who come after me and I will tell you of those who came before. Once upon a time in a little house on a prairie - oops, change that lest I commit plagiarism - and change that “house on the prairie” to “dugout on the prairie.” So my story begins...
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