Not by chance

I don’t believe in chance.
It’s not by chance I’m watching the sun set over Tecolote Canyon. It’s by design.
By design the ridge across the canyon glows like wildfire consuming the hillside. By design the sky above burns brighter, almost painfully so, as the sun sets over the Pacific, just on the other side. By design waves of gold and orange and pink give way to shades of purple and shadowy blue, a crescendo of color set in motion by the one who created the Earth, the universe, and all that is within them.
Nature’s orchestra responds in the song of the wrentits and towhees hopping in the scrub brush and the tiny, demanding squeaks of a hungry hummingbird. The swallows swoop in unison. The hawk glides on the thermals, suddenly plunging toward a branch, seizing it so violently the entire treetop shakes.
It wasn’t by chance the doctors found tumors in glands in my throat. It wasn’t chance that led me to today.
The nurses -- Cynthia, Maricela, Pam, Jennifer, Feven -- it was by design we crossed paths. Pam, prepping me for surgery and chatting comfortably about her upcoming trip to Tahoe with her family. Jennifer, facing layoffs on the floor where she normally works and with her husband long out of work. Nurse’s aide Diane, at 22 mourning the recent death of her father -- who was my age. Cynthia, who joyfully delivered news from the doctor that both tumors were benign, who, when it was her turn as charge nurse to make assignments popped her head in the room and said she had given me Maricela. Sweet, compassionate Maricela, with heartfelt hugs when it was time to go home.
We were brought together by the same hand that traced those vibrant colors across the western sky.
If not, I wouldn’t be sitting here days later on the patio of our friend’s condo above Tecolote Canyon, soaking in the quiet and beauty I so need for spiritual and physical healing.
Nope. I don’t believe in chance.