Last week, while on vacation, my friend and I were seeking a particular hiking trail with the assistance of Google Maps, the all-knowing, all-seeing miracle on our smart phones. OK, not Higher Power material, but who would've thought, all those years ago, when I was instructed to carry a quarter in case I needed to make an emergency recovery phone call, that I'd be walking around with the world's knowledge a tap away. It's kind of creepy, actually, but convenient.

And not infallible. While searching for the trail-head, Ms. Google literally sent us in a circle back to our starting point. We back-tracked, thinking we'd missed something, only to see that it was a historical marker, not our hike. What the heck - we're here, so let's drive in, at least to turn around. As we rolled up the narrow road, one of us mentioned how much we'd loved our time in Scotland last summer - such a great experience. As we pulled into the parking area at the sacred Hawaiian site, we came upon a couple of young guys practicing their bagpipes. Talk about unexpected! Hearing "Scotland the Brave" while gazing over a lush forest towards the sea, and having just talked about Scotland, gave me goosebumps. A "God-shot," and evidence that perhaps Ms. Google did know where we were supposed to be after all. We chatted with the kids, and gave them the name of an awesome street band we'd seen in Edinburgh (the Spinning Blowfish - check out their bagpipe enhanced version of "Wish You Were Here" on Youtube). A sweet, momentary connection from a mistaken path.

How many times have I initially thought, "I don't want to go," and had a great time at a gathering, or took a wrong turn and came upon a beautiful scene. How often have I gone to a new meeting, only to run into someone I haven't seen in decades? Or, attended a meeting with a particular matter on my heart and hear a stranger speak directly to me?

God-shots are those little coincidences - synchronistic reminders that "expect a miracle" applies to me too, not just the newcomer, if I remember to pay attention. Being open to the mystery, letting go of the need to figure it out or have all the answers, is a comfort, when I allow myself to relax into the moment, trusting that all is as it should be. As someone used to tell me, "if things were supposed to be any other way, they'd be different!"

On these days when it seems like the news of the world is mostly terrible, I find it helpful to notice my surroundings - listen to the morning bird call, appreciate spring blossoms, or strike up a conversation with guys playing the pipes. How do you ground yourself? What, lately, has you wondering, "Is it odd, or is that God?" How can you open your heart and mind to the wonders of this life?