Probability: A measure or estimate to the degree of confidence one may have in the occurance of an event, measured on a scale from zero (impossibility) to one (certainty).
I was born 12,696 days ago. I was born in Canada. I was born in Galt, Ontario. I am a firstborn daughter...I was the firstborn grandchild to my paternal grandparents. I was the third grandchild born to my maternal grandparents. I am now the oldest of 3.
The longer I live...as tomorrow will mark my 12,697th day on earth...I hear more and more frequently..."Wow..what a small world". I'm realising with age, that yes, the world is small..and the probability of occurances, head spinning events, and brilliant instants of syncronicity are less and less coincidence...and more and more an absolute certainty.
Why was I born in Canada? Why was I born in 1975? Why was I born a healthy baby girl? Why did I have 2 parents, and not a single mother? An estimated 360,000 babies were born in Canada the same year as I was. Which implies there were 360,000 possibilites of me being born somewhere else..to someone else....if you didn't believe in probability. I believe, God holds probability...and spins it into destiny.
Michael collided with my world..somewhere in the summer of 1986. The probability of that happening might have seemed remote. We went to different schools. We didn't have mutual friends. I WASN'T a cool kid. Like....AT ALL. I remember seeing him in the church parking lot, one summer evening after youth group. He was talking to my friend. I think he had a popped collar. We met then...it was brief. I heard different things about him through junior high as he was an enigmatic figure in my city... certainly better than Kirk Cameron, or any other teen magazine crush. He resurfaced in highschool. Once again...we didn't associate with the same crowd, so while we took a few classes together, we remained casual.
The probability of us becoming friends? If past behaviour is the best predictor of future behaviour? Slim to none.
But then we found each other in 2007... and we got each other. We laughed like those 11 yr. olds in 1986..we beared our souls like lifelong friends...and met each other at that exact point where life had brought us. His life had brought him to the other side of addiction..mine had brought me to very real confessions about why I am the person I am, due to things that are, were, and will always be out of my control. We went from 0-100 in every conversation... we always did. I had moments...even when I was sitting across from him, thinking..."how did THIS happen"?!
When Michael died...my expectations of probability died. I lost my belief in those things that are meant to be. I spun wrecklessly close to the edge of disbelief. But I knew in my heart...as I do now..the probability of peace and resolution? It's absolute. It may not be now...it may not be tomorrow...or next year..but I DO believe that one day, there will be more answers than questions. Even if it's not this side of heaven. I believe this, because Michael didn't lie to me. I believe this, because I believe in a God who has taken the guess work out of life. On a scale of uncertainty, to probability...I believe there IS beauty for ashes, we WILL dance among the ruins...and we will SEE it with our own eyes.
Will I see Michael again?