My God Wink Moment in a Walmart Parking Lot

A coincidence, or my husband sending me a sign?

First for the uninitiated (like me until 2 years ago) — Godwink is a term created by author SQuire Rushnell to describe a coincidence that appears to be divine intervention.

I’ve experienced such coincidences since childhood. An outgrowth of having a grandmother who practiced metaphysics.

But I just called those instances “signposts” telling me that I was on the right path in life.

Then my husband died during the Covid pandemic. To help with my grief, a neighbor loaned me one of Rushnell’s 11 Godwink books.

I started calling my signposts godwinks — now I see them as signs that my husband is still with me.

That brings me to the parking lot at the local Walmart — not my first choice for grocery shopping, but it is #1 for convenience.

The store is halfway between home and the pool where I swim daily. There’s ample parking, a moderately, well stocked produce section. And most importantly, I can run inside wearing a wet swimsuit (covered by an old cotton dress) and not get a sideways look. It’s Florida after all.

So I was not prepared and a bit horrified during a quick stop recently. As I was loading my groceries into my trunk, I heard a greeting.

“Hello beautiful.”

I looked up. The greeting certainly was not meant for me.

My hair was a messy bird’s nest bun still dripping water down my neck. I wore the faint odor of pool chemicals and was no fashion plate — covered in a faded, damp, secondhand dress that needed mending.

Before me was a slender, older man slowly pushing a grocery cart my way. He had a graying beard and weathered face shaded by a frayed ball cap.

I was so surprised by his greeting that my only response was a polite “Thank you. You made my day, but I’m hardly beautiful especially like this.”

He smiled. And as he passed by said, “Remember, you are always a rose.”

I didn’t know him. He had no ulterior motive.

He had no clue that my husband’s intimate nickname for me was “rosebud.”

As he continued to his car, I stood frozen in place.

Beautiful was not my self-image when I first met my husband. He would chide me when I deflected such compliments. But over more than four decades, he helped me see both my inner and outer beauty.

I was beginning to lose that self-confidence without him — letting grief cloud my vision.

Then, my brief encounter in the Walmart parking lot.

The illogical, unscientific part of my brain accepted this as a reminder (call it a signpost or Godwink if you want).

My husband was telling me — I’m loved and still a beautiful rose.