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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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We crept down a meandering country road, gravel crackling underneath our tires. The countryside stretched before us like a great quilt of golden, brown, and green squares held together by the thick green stitching of the hedgerows. The sun overhead was radiant, its light bathing the scenery in a welcoming glow. We slowed our car to a near stop and rolled down our windows, taking in the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells. Hay bales dotted the landscape. A tractor kicked up dust in a nearby field. Wildflowers, dandelions, and purple thistles covered the road’s shoulder, filling the drainage ditches with an array of color. We heard the whicker of horses, the braying of donkeys, and the burble of water running along a small stream. We inhaled the sweet aroma of trees, grass, and earth filling our nostrils. The road turned abruptly, and we found ourselves in a quaint downtown with several historical buildings—a century’s old general store, the First Christian Church, and an old train depot. We paused, both feeling inexplicably drawn to the town. We drove a bit further and, much to our surprise, we saw a subdivision under construction on the outskirts of town. Although we weren’t looking for a new home, we parked our car and walked through some of the unfinished homes. By nightfall we’d put a contract down on a home, believing we’d been guided to do so. Three months later we moved in. After settling in, we often sat on our front porch, amazed at the number of cardinals congregating in our trees and in the open fields behind our home. One afternoon, my aunt called wanting our new mailing address. “You moved to Anna!” she exclaimed. “What a coincidence.” “Coincidence?” “Didn’t you know that your great, great grandmother, Rebecca, and her husband, James Snavely, moved from Tennessee to Anna with their daughter, Sara Virginia, around 1892 or so.” “No, seriously I never knew.” “Well, according to family history, the Snavelys worked off the land growing cotton and raising their children. Rebecca died in Anna around 1894 and was buried in a small cemetery on the outskirts of town. When you were born, your grandmother insisted you be named “Sara” after her mother, Sara Virginia, your great grandmother. How odd, I thought as I hung up the phone. Coincidence? Perhaps. Three years later an historical marker was placed one-half mile from our home documenting that the land and surrounding area was the original homestead of Collin McKinney, a pioneer who helped draft the Texas Declaration of Independence and later the Constitution for the Republic of Texas. We’d known for years that Collin McKinney was my husband’s great, great, great grandfather, but we had no idea we were actually living on a piece of land that was once his homestead. Another coincidence? Maybe. I’m convinced that living in our little town was part of a grand, synchronistic plan nudging us to return to the land of our ancestors; and we feel quite at home here. As for the cardinals, they still congregate in our trees, bearing witness to this quote: When a cardinal appears in your yard, it’s a visitor from heaven. I’d like to believe that Rebecca, Sara Virginia, and Collin McKinney are such visitors, and we delight in seeing them. between random things coincidence can occur dots are connected what's coincidence? it could be a late loved one sending us a sign what’s coincidence? invisible frequency universe at work

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Where Cardinals Fly

We crept down a meandering country road, gravel crackling underneath our tires. The countryside stretched before us like a great quilt of golden, brown, and green squares held together by the thick green stitching of the hedgerows. The sun overhead was radiant, its light bathing the scenery in a welcoming glow. We slowed our car to a near stop and rolled down our windows, taking in the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells. Hay bales dotted the landscape. A tractor kicked up dust in a nearby field. Wildflowers, dandelions, and purple thistles covered the road’s shoulder, filling the drainage ditches with an array of color. We heard the whicker of horses, the braying of donkeys, and the burble of water running along a small stream. We inhaled the sweet aroma of trees, grass, and earth filling our nostrils. The road turned abruptly, and we found ourselves in a quaint downtown with several historical buildings—a century’s old general store, the First Christian Church, and an old train depot. We paused, both feeling inexplicably drawn to the town. We drove a bit further and, much to our surprise, we saw a subdivision under construction on the outskirts of town. Although we weren’t looking for a new home, we parked our car and walked through some of the unfinished homes. By nightfall we’d put a contract down on a home, believing we’d been guided to do so. Three months later we moved in. After settling in, we often sat on our front porch, amazed at the number of cardinals congregating in our trees and in the open fields behind our home. One afternoon, my aunt called wanting our new mailing address. “You moved to Anna!” she exclaimed. “What a coincidence.” “Coincidence?” “Didn’t you know that your great, great grandmother, Rebecca, and her husband, James Snavely, moved from Tennessee to Anna with their daughter, Sara Virginia, around 1892 or so.” “No, seriously I never knew.” “Well, according to family history, the Snavelys worked off the land growing cotton and raising their children. Rebecca died in Anna around 1894 and was buried in a small cemetery on the outskirts of town. When you were born, your grandmother insisted you be named “Sara” after her mother, Sara Virginia, your great grandmother. How odd, I thought as I hung up the phone. Coincidence? Perhaps. Three years later an historical marker was placed one-half mile from our home documenting that the land and surrounding area was the original homestead of Collin McKinney, a pioneer who helped draft the Texas Declaration of Independence and later the Constitution for the Republic of Texas. We’d known for years that Collin McKinney was my husband’s great, great, great grandfather, but we had no idea we were actually living on a piece of land that was once his homestead. Another coincidence? Maybe. I’m convinced that living in our little town was part of a grand, synchronistic plan nudging us to return to the land of our ancestors; and we feel quite at home here. As for the cardinals, they still congregate in our trees, bearing witness to this quote: When a cardinal appears in your yard, it’s a visitor from heaven. I’d like to believe that Rebecca, Sara Virginia, and Collin McKinney are such visitors, and we delight in seeing them. between random things coincidence can occur dots are connected what's coincidence? it could be a late loved one sending us a sign what’s coincidence? invisible frequency universe at work

Book: Reflection on the Important Things