We’ve all heard the expression, “Timing is everything.” It may not really be everything, but it’s definitely important.

Back in October, I decided it was time to purchase a plane ticket from Michigan to Florida for the birth of Linnea and Adam’s 4^th baby, but the simple process of choosing a flight became complicated by not knowing when the little guy would appear. Only God knew, and he wasn’t telling.

Linnea’s first 3 babies each came about a week late, so as she and I went back and forth about which January day I should fly south, we targeted her due date plus one week. “Don’t come too soon,” she said. “You might have to fly home before the birth!”

As I clicked the “purchase now” button on my laptop, I felt like a gambler. Foolishly, I hadn’t thought to ask God to pick my flight date, despite his knowing exactly when baby would arrive. Instead I purchased by chance, scheduling my trip for January 16^th.

Because the birth was going to take place at home, opportunities for involvement would be far greater than if we were to meet the new baby in the more restricted atmosphere of a hospital.  And after the thrill of nearly making “the catch” at Autumn’s birth two years ago, I didn’t want to miss out! (Wonder of Wonders)

The weeks passed, and Linnea’s routine pregnancy gave no inkling of whether she’d be early or late. But while God held onto his secret, I couldn’t help but second-guess my January plane ticket. So I wrote myself a Post-it note: “Change flight?”

Then one day I decided to do it, going online and discovering it would cost only $52 to make the change. I felt a nudge to push it up 4 days, to Sunday, January 12^th. But navigating the internet change-page was difficult, and after 3 tries, I gave up. My Post-it went in the trash, and I decided to stick with my January 16^th ticket.

But the mental niggling didn’t stop. Eventually I called the airlines, and they facilitated the change which I “randomly” picked, the 12^th. And wouldn’t you know! Linnea’s labor kicked in on Monday morning.

Had I stuck with my original date, I’d have missed the birth… and the thrilling privilege of cutting the cord, which Linnea and Adam invited me to do.

I recount this story simply to say that God is always operating on our behalf, always looking out for our best interests. I wanted to participate in the birth of my 9^th grandchild, and in the end, he gave me my wish.

I didn’t recognize his presence in the midst of my mental volleying over dates, or in my Post-it note, or in the niggling that wouldn’t quit, or in the choice of flying on January 12^th. But my insensitivity didn’t deter him from gifting me with the perfect timing of my flight anyway.

And in this case, timing was everything.

“I trust in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God. My times are in your hand’.” (Psalm 31:14-15)