You know all those funny hashgocha pratis stories? There's always a few when it comes to dating. "My plane ticket was changed and I ended up marrying the girl I was sitting next to" or "I rear-ended her car" or "Our grandmothers had us married off when we were in the cradle but we were set up years later" and so forth.
This one is by Natalie Appleton, who has an epiphany while living with her boyfriend in her small Canadian hometown of Medicine Hat, that this is not where she wants to be. She leaves him and drives off.
After wandering a bit, she finds herself in Thailand teaching English but meeting no one new. She believes she is here for a purpose, but what?
Four months later, I received a reply from an online date who was a fellow English teacher and Canadian . . . he was heading home for summer holidays. “I grew up in a small town in Alberta,” he wrote. “You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s called Medicine Hat.”
I choked on my coffee.
All those nights I had wondered why I was in Thailand. The truth and pain of waiting slapped me like oars.
Wanting and gratitude danced in my body. I read those last four words again and again: “It’s called Medicine Hat.” And I knew.
How's that for divine intervention?
At our wedding two years later . . . he said, “And hey, if you, uh, if you ever want to meet a nice girl from Medicine Hat, just move to the other side of the world and wait a while.”
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