Yourdictionary.com defines a Godwink as “an event or personal experience, often identified as coincidence, so astonishing that it is seen as a sign of divine intervention.”
I had one recently—and it stopped me in my tracks.
When my mom passed away in July of 2024, there was only one thing of hers I really wanted: her Kindle.
There’s nothing particularly fancy about it—no bells or whistles. But my mom loved to read. Some of my earliest memories are of her curled up with a book, eating sunflower seeds. She read thousands of books in her life. And I believe I got my love of reading from her.
That Kindle is one of my most prized possessions now. I use it every day. It connects me to her. But I had no idea it would also deliver a moment that felt like more than coincidence—a full-body, unmistakable Godwink.
I already had a Kindle of my own when I received hers, so I gave my old one to my youngest daughter, Zoe. But, in true little sister fashion, it wasn’t long before her older sister commandeered it. Zoe wanted a new one. We had just bought her an iPad for her birthday, so another device felt like a stretch. The Kindle she wanted was $120—more than I wanted to spend.
Fast forward to spring break. We were in Wichita, my hometown, visiting friends. Zoe walked up and asked when I was planning to get her a new Kindle. My friend Jill overheard and casually said, “Have you looked on Facebook Marketplace?”
Right then and there, I pulled out my phone and checked. Sure enough, the exact Kindle model we wanted had been listed just three hours earlier. I messaged the seller and she replied almost immediately. We settled on a price and agreed to meet at a gas station within the hour.
She gave me a description of her car. I pulled in, spotted her, and walked over to introduce myself. As she handed me the kindle, she paused.
“Just so you know,” she said, “I recognized your name, and I was one of the nurses who took care of your mom in the hospital.”
I was stunned. When my mom was in the hospital, we’d brought in private nursing to make her more comfortable. I never expected one of those nurses to show up again in my life—let alone in a random Marketplace exchange for a used Kindle.
Some would call it coincidence.
I call it my mom.
One of the beautiful parts of being human is that we get to choose what we believe. I believe this was her way of letting me know she’s still with me. Still paying attention. Still showing up in the little things.
And I believe God still winks when we need it most.
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