Synchronous

I had a most synchronous moment yesterday. I read an article about the late Irish poet Seamus Heaney in the morning, and thought to myself, “I need to pick up a collection of his poems.” That afternoon we were in Third Street Books in McMinnville, and I found a copy of his “100 Poems” on the shelf. Last summer when I married granddaughter Grace and her husband Seth, I read Heaney’s poem “Scaffolding,” a lovely poem about the longevity of marriage. When I pulled the book off the shelf, it fell open to page 13, and the poem… “Scaffolding.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I showed Tom, and she said, “Whoa.” Total synchronicity. Don’t you love when that happens? It’s so inexplicable, but at the same time feels perfectly right. I love that. Somehow directed and meant to be.