Coincidence, Clairvoyance or Divine Providence?

Windshield time is thinking time. It's phenomenal how many different thoughts run through the mind when driving. Yesterday, on the way to the grand kiddies house, it happened, something I had not remembered for 18 years. The sun was shining, blue skies, Interstate 70 was clear sailing and, quicker than quick, I hit a snow squall.
My mind immediately jumped to Cleveland, Ohio in December of 1992.

Cleveland takes some getting used to if you're not a native. Before retirement, I worked in steel mills, paper mills and places not located in the best parts of communities. I found Cleveland to be tedious; overcast, dirty, sooty from smokestack material and that always present 'dirty feet' odor of the mills. Anyway, I had a Tuesday morning appointment at a company called Horsburgh&Scott. They were manufacturers of gearboxes. Since H&S is located somewhere around East 20Th Street and I stay in hotels away from the city I needed plenty of time to make my appointment. Typically, Mentor, Ohio is a good spot. It's ten miles east of Cleveland. I liked Mentor. It has nice hotels and a big mall. Salesmen populate malls.

When I awoke the next morning and looked out the hotel window there it was; that which is most common in NE Ohio from November through April; SNOW! It was big-time snow. It's called 'lake effect' snow. I don't care how it gets there. To me, it's snow just like snow in Colorado, Iowa or Minnesota. It's snow and there's a lot of it. I hurried my pace to make the appointment.

Interstate 90 is the main thoroughfare through Cleveland. It hugs the south shore of Lake Erie and on this day the snow was falling so rapidly I could barely make out other vehicles on the highway. As I approached 58th street I saw a car off to the side of the interstate. Bear in mind, any off ramp that reads, 'East' in Cleveland, is in a war zone. There's only one reason to take an off ramp and that's to buy cheap wine and crack cocaine.
The stranded car had no tape holding on a tail light, no rust spots. It wasn't tilted to one side do to a broken axle. i.e. I was sure it belonged to a solid citizen.
My car was a tan Buick LeSabre. I veered off the interstate and backed up, close to the other car. Even though my attire was top coat, suit and tie, the young lady inside looked at me with unimaginable apprehension. There is something significant Lizzie has taught me. Women wouldn't trust a strange man even if they were 100% sure he was the Pope. This young girl, in her twenties, barely cracked her window. I asked if she needed help. She wanted nothing to do with me. I'm a good soul so I continued on, trying to gain her confidence. Honestly! I was fearful for her. In 1992 there were no cell phones. I did, however, have one of those monster mounted telephones on the floor of my car. "May I call someone for you", I asked? I'm sure she thought I was going to call a buddy and that we'd do all kinds of nasty things to her. She gave me the one word answer, "NO"!

Cleveland in 1992 had a population of 480,000. Many of these citizens are nice. Some, not so nice. In East Cleveland--it can be very scary! I wanted to do anything I could to get this girl off the road so I began explaining my life history and what I did for a job. I mentioned my children, my teaching and coaching career; anything that came to me. I told her I was Catholic and went to Mass three times a day. "My last statement was:
"I'm on my way to a company called Horsburgh&Scott for a meeting with a man. Please trust me. I won't hurt you". I had piqued her interest. "Who", she asked, "will you be meeting"? I told her I had a 9 am appointment with a young engineer named *Bill Anders".
Without further hesitation, the young girl asked, "what is this Bill Anders phone number"? I didn't have the number off-hand but it was in my report. She then said, "When you get the number, call this man and ask him where he proposed to his fiance'"?

I made the call. I explained the situation to Bill and gave him the question. Upon returning to the lady's car I told her it was at some restaurant; can't remember the name now. Long story just got shorter.

By know you've determined that Chris was Bill's future wife. What are the chances---1 in 480,000?


So, what is it: coincidence, clairvoyance or Divine Providence? You decide.

*fictitious names