There are some things that seem as though they are just meant to be. When you step back and look at all of the variables that come into play for any given situation to occur, it’s hard to imagine anything happening by chance. Some call it fate or destiny, others call it happy accidents. I’m just a redneck Christian, but I like to call it God’s sovereignty.  

I’ve had plenty of experiences with these types of situations, from that unexpected bill being covered by a surprise windfall to a summer storm popping up right when I was looking for an excuse not to cut the grass.  

Despite all of my experiences, nothing exemplifies it as clearly and succinctly as what I experience on a road trip in August of 2008. My brother had just gotten out of the Army and he and I were driving to Tennessee from Washington state. We were about halfway across Montana, trying to find a radio station playing anything but Kid Rock’s All Summer Long.  

We hadn’t seen another car in what seemed like hours while we drove through the vast nothingness when off in the distance we saw a hawk flying towards us. It looked like it’s flight plan was going to take it right into our path, but we figured it would change course at the last second as we’ve all seen happen thousands of times.  

We were wrong.  

That hawk slammed headlong into the windshield, moving the rear view mirror and bursting into a cloud of feathers. It looked like something out of a carton, except it didn’t get up and shake the Cuckoo birds from its head.  

As I contemplated the odds of that one bird running into the one vehicle for hundreds of miles, I couldn’t help but accept that there are no coincidences. The only explanation for us and that bird being in the exact same spot at just the right time is that the hawk’s days were numbered, and in that very instant they hit zero.  

Thankfully the windshield had a few more years left of its clock.