The Numbers That Found Us

Some stories are written in words. Ours seems to be written in dates.

13 • 22 • 27

I’ve never been someone who believes every little thing happens for a reason.

I don’t spend much time looking for signs or trying to assign meaning to every coincidence.

But every once in a while, something makes me pause.

For our family, it’s numbers.

Not because I think they’re magical. Not because I believe the universe was sending us secret messages. But because sometimes life has a funny way of repeating itself in ways that make you smile and think, Huh...that’s kind of incredible.

It started with Danny.

Our first date was on August 13.

A little over two years later, on October 13, he proposed.

Then we got married exactly two years after our first date—August 13, 2022. (Quite literally the anniversary of our first date...which still feels like one of Danny’s better planning decisions.)

At that point, I thought it was just a cute coincidence.

Then Charlotte arrived.

She wasn’t due on the 13th. In fact, her birth was anything but according to plan. Severe preeclampsia changed everything, and she entered the world unexpectedly on July 13.

Months later, after forty days in the NICU, we finally brought her home.

August 22.

Fast forward a little over two years.

Our son Henry was born on...

November 22.

Again, completely unplanned.

Then there are our birthdays.

Danny’s is December 27.

Mine is May 27.

Another number that somehow found its way into our family’s story.

Could all of this be random?

Absolutely.

Statistically, it probably is.

And yet...

When I write those dates down next to each other, it’s hard not to feel like they’re quietly woven into the fabric of our lives.

I don’t necessarily believe it’s fate.

I’m not convinced every coincidence carries some profound message from above.

But I do believe God has a gentle way of reminding us He’s paying attention.

Little moments that don’t change the course of our lives—but make us stop long enough to notice the beauty in them.

A friend once called them “God winks.”

I loved that phrase immediately.

Not a miracle.

Not proof of anything.

Just a small, unexpected reminder that life is often more beautifully connected than we realize.

Maybe the numbers don’t mean anything at all.

Or maybe they’re simply little bookmarks in our family’s story—tiny reminders of first dates, wedding vows, answered prayers, terrifying NICU days, joyful homecomings, and babies who arrived exactly when they were meant to.

Either way, every time another 13, 22, or 27 appears on the calendar, I can’t help but smile.

Because whether it’s coincidence, divine humor, or simply the way our family’s story unfolded, those numbers have become part of us.

And I have a feeling I’ll always notice them.