The series of coincidences in my life this past week has been enough to send me back to church. Except, in another strange twist, just last night, a scheduling conflict between my dance class and an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting ended with my sister and I teaching Irish Ceilis on an actual alter. So don't go calling me born again yet.
This morning I had the incredible opportunity to sit down and talk with one of the two girls who spent their childhood living in my barn. Among a slew of coincidences throughout our chance meeting, came one that struck me as particularly funny:
My name is Bridget Mary, and I live in this girl's former home.
Her current home is a duplex, of which she and her husband rent out half.
Her tenant's name?
I am not even kidding.
Now if only I could have coincidentally mowed my lawn and weeded my gardens before her arrival!