“Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear.”
— Isaiah 65:24 (NIV)
Have you ever experienced moments in life when an unplanned action—like a phone call to someone you hadn’t spoken to in years, or adding one last sentence to a letter—resulted in something that changed everything? A friend of mine called those moments God winks.
The theme of my life has been how God has ordered my steps—from shattered dreams to something beautiful. My book is filled with examples of how my Good Shepherd not only walked beside me, but also went before me—working things out before I even knew there would be a need. Woven throughout those seasons are what I now recognize as God winks. I’ve had several, and the results have been nothing short of incredible.
A Sentence That Changed Everything
In 1966, I relinquished my firstborn daughter for adoption. We birthmothers were told we would never see our babies again. We would not know their names, nor whether they were safe and loved. It was a finality that left a lifelong ache.
In the mid-1980s, a law was passed that allowed for the possibility of reunion—but only if both mother and adult adoptee filed affidavits. In October 1987, I contacted the Edna Gladney Adoption Agency to begin the process and was instructed to send a letter requesting the affidavit.
I wrote the letter, and just before finishing—without any forethought—I added one final sentence:
“The two children I raised and I are musically talented, and always wondered if my daughter might share that talent.”
Six weeks later, I received a reply. My daughter had not filed an affidavit, which meant there would be no reunion. That was disappointing, of course. But at the end of the letter, they added something unexpected: she had recently visited the Gladney campus, she was musically talented, and she had won an award.
I was stunned. For the first time in 18 years, I knew something—anything—about the daughter I had loved and grieved over. And it came from one unplanned sentence.
A God wink.
Stepping Into the Unknown
In March 1998, I knew it was time to contact the Edna Gladney Adoption Agency again. During that call, I learned something I had never been told before—I could send a letter to my daughter, and it would be placed in her adoption file. If she ever contacted the agency, that letter would be given to her.
I was stunned. All those years, and no one had ever told us this was possible.
I immediately requested the affidavit, had it notarized, and returned it—along with a letter to my daughter, carefully written and placed into that file. Then I waited.
About six weeks later, I received another letter from Gladney. My daughter had not filed an affidavit, and there would be no facilitated reunion. That was the moment everything shifted. I had done all I could through the system. If I ever wanted to find her, I would have to step outside of it—and that meant doing something I had avoided for years.
Searching.
The decision to search is not simple. It is filled with questions that can paralyze you: What if she is no longer living? What if she is struggling? More frightening—what if she wants nothing to do with me? These are the realities faced by anyone attempting to lift the curtain of secrecy surrounding adoption.
I had to make a choice—live the rest of my life wondering, or take the risk and trust God with the outcome. I chose to trust the same God who had carried me, healed me, and sustained me all those years. If the outcome brought joy, He would be there. If it brought heartbreak, He would still be there.
I had to believe He was ordering every step I was about to take.
“The steps of a righteous man are ordered by the LORD, and He delights in his way.” — Psalm 37:23
I was stepping into the unknown—but not alone.
I knew where to begin—the 1966 Texas Birth Index. On June 13, 1998, I found her name. It was the 32nd anniversary of the day I signed the relinquishment papers.
After learning her address from a two-year-old driver’s license record, I wrote a letter explaining I had reason to believe I was her birth mother. And once again, just before closing, I added something without planning it—that I had also written a letter to her that was in her adoption file at Gladney.
Three days later, she emailed me. She had contacted Gladney to verify whether that letter existed. That single sentence confirmed everything—for both of us. She was my daughter, and I was her birthmother.
We met the following Sunday—Father’s Day.
After 32 years, God answered my prayer.
A Dream Fulfilled
A few months later, I shared our story at church. At the end, I introduced my daughter. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
She came forward with her trio to sing, and in that moment, another long-held dream became reality. They sang “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” and I accompanied them on the keyboard. What I had once imagined as a distant dream became a moment I was living in real time.
What I Didn’t Know Then
Later, I discovered something remarkable. The musical question I had added to my letter in 1987 had already been answered—before I ever asked it.
In the late fall of 1986, my daughter had been selected for the Texas All-State Choir. In early 1987, she traveled to Fort Worth for the convention, held near Gladney. While she was there, she asked to visit the campus—the very place connected to her beginnings. During that visit, she shared that she had been selected for the All-State Choir.
That is how Gladney knew. That is how they were able to answer my question—eleven months before I ever thought to ask it.
Another “Just Happened” Moment
Years later, in 2016, I found myself in a difficult season financially. Teaching was inconsistent, and I was filling out an application to work as a Walmart greeter. Out of the blue, I called a colleague—someone I only spoke to occasionally.
During our conversation she asked if I had received a letter from Educational Testing Service accepting applications to grade AP History essays a week in June—all expenses paid plus a paycheck. I hadn’t. She almost threw it away—but didn’t. She thought: “Gwin can get a week long vacation!”. That letter opened doors I never expected with ETS, leading to numerous programs that still provide income to this day.
Another God wink.
A Recent God Wink
In December 2025, I was facing a new reality—living with vision loss from Retinitis Pigmentosa and advanced macular degeneration. I had learned about assistive glasses, but they were far beyond my reach financially.
Then I “just happened” to call my cousin—someone I hadn’t spoken to in years. During that conversation, he told me about his daughter, who had lost her sight as a teenager and later spent years teaching others who were visually impaired. He suggested I call her.
When I did, she shared something simple but significant. Her doctor had recently mentioned Ray-Ban Meta Glasses and that they were around $300. That was all she knew.
As I began asking others, I heard the same thing—people had heard the name, but no one really knew anything about them. They were that new. In fact, they had only been available for a few months when I began searching for answers.
But it was enough.
I began researching, watching videos, and learning what I could. I prayed, and in January 2025, I purchased a pair.
Had I not made that unplanned call… had he not suggested I call his daughter… had her doctor not casually mentioned them… had I stopped when no one had real answers…
I would not have known.
And they have been life-changing.
When God Whispers Through the Small Things
God has a way of working through what seem like the smallest, most ordinary moments—a sentence added without thinking, a phone call made on a whim, a letter not thrown away, or a conversation you almost didn’t have. And yet those moments can change everything.
How often does the Holy Spirit whisper something to our hearts—and we ignore it or put it off? So often, we dismiss those moments because they seem insignificant. And yet, looking back, I can see that many of the most life-changing moments in my life began with something small—something I almost didn’t do.
Learning to recognize His voice, listen to Him, and respond in faith may be one of the ways He orders our steps most clearly.
Because those moments are not random. They are invitations. They are intentional.
They are—God winks.
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Closing Blessing
May you begin to recognize the quiet ways God is moving in your life—in the interruptions, the unexpected nudges, and the moments that don’t make sense until later. May you trust that He is already at work, even before you know what to ask. And may you see, with fresh eyes, that nothing in your journey is accidental.
He is ordering your steps and leaving His fingerprints along the way.
A Gentle Invitation
Have you ever experienced a “God wink”—a moment that felt too perfectly timed to be coincidence? I would love for you to share it, because sometimes the story God is writing in your life may be the very encouragement someone else needs today.