God orchestrates everything in our lives. Last fall, I encountered yet another instance: one that defied all logic.
A charming woman (I’ll call her Ada), very well-known among Western U.S. ghost hunters, was recovering in a rehabilitation center from a bad fall. About to be released to her rural home, she sank into depression, worrying about her ability to care for herself.
Ada was on my list of people to send my memoir to, and even before I received the first copies of my book on Oct. 7, thoughts of her lay heavy on my heart. But I was so mired in work and organizing book logistics, I pushed those thoughts of concern back where I could ignore them.
Five days later, during the Nevada Ghost and Paranormal Series Ghost Hunt Field Trip Class, one of the instructors told me Ada had thoroughly enjoyed my book. She’d talked to her several days earlier.
I thanked the teacher, but knew Ada couldn’t have read my book. I hadn’t mailed her one yet. Ada must’ve confused my book with someone else’s.
The voice inside me rose again. Send Ada your book. Send it now. So, on Oct. 15, I mailed it. The postal clerk said she would receive it around Friday, Oct. 18.
On Oct. 21, I received a Facebook message from a friend saying that Ada wanted me to call her about my book.
I phoned her.
“Your book came at such a good time for me,” Ada said. “It gave me the strength to face returning home. I’ve kept it by my bedside ever since.”
“I’m so glad, Ada. But, you’ve only had my book a few days, right?”
“No, it came the first of October. My friend checked my mail and brought it down to me while I was in the hospital. I’ve had it for weeks.”
I paused, not sure how to continue. “Could someone have bought my book and brought it to you? I only sent your book last week.”
“What? I received it in the hospital. It gave me the courage to return home. And, I loved what you handwrote in my book.”
I twisted the phone cord around my finger. There’s no way she could’ve received it then. “The post office told me you’d get it last Friday. Did another book arrive from me?”
“No.” Her voice sounded a bit shaky. “I’ve only received one book. The book you sent to me. The book you wrote on an inside page to me.” Her voice went up an octave.
I could tell I was upsetting her, so I switched the topic.
After hanging up, I searched my postage receipts. The notion I could’ve sent her a book at the end of September (so that she could receive it in early October) was impossible, because:
- I received my first paperbacks on Oct. 7;
- The first Amazon.com sale of A Reluctant Spirit took place on Oct. 6 when Ada had already returned home;
- I didn’t have Ada’s address so I’d asked a friend for through a Facebook message. That request was posted mid-October; and
- My postage receipt for mailing my book to her town was dated Oct. 15—no other receipts indicated an earlier mailing.
I called our mutual friend and explained the situation. Could medication be making Ada a little loopy? Our friend waited a day to call her. When she called me back, she, too, was convinced Ada had received my book very early in October.
The situation grew even weirder. The book I mailed her on October 15th never arrived. The only book she’d received from me arrived more than two weeks earlier than I’d sent it.
I mulled the situation until a thought occurred to me: After all the amazing events the Great I Am has shown me, why do I believe it impossible that the Most Divine skewed time so Ada would receive something when she needed it the most?
The Bible states that God’s time is different from ours. Physicists say humans created the notion of time. Who am I to say that the Lord couldn’t manipulate time to help out Ada?