Last month, I witnessed Divine Timing unfold in real time.

It was one of those unexpectedly simmering May evenings when the heat felt more like a southern cornfield in midsummer than New York City in spring. By 4:15 PM, the air was thick with humidity, my friend’s highly anticipated networking event was scheduled to begin at 5:00 PM, and I was already cutting it close.

With the clock ticking, I stood there debating my options: take the IRT No. 1 Broadway subway line or call an Uber.

For a full five minutes—five minutes I really didn’t have—I went back and forth in complete Libra mode:

Uber. Train.
Uber. Train.
Uber. Train.

After weighing the possibility of getting stuck in rush-hour traffic against the fare I was being quoted, I opted for the train.

Once the decision was made, I called an Uber to take me to the station. Under normal circumstances, I would have walked, but as I said, it was incredibly hot, and I had no desire to arrive looking like I’d run a marathon before the evening had even begun.

I arrived at the station around 4:25 PM. That left me just thirty-five minutes to reach my destination.

I was in a serious crunch for time. The networking event at the Empire Hotel—which, by the way, is lovely—had a sharp start time, a hard stop, and absolutely no intention of waiting for me.

While the subway isn’t always the most glamorous option, it is often the fastest way to travel from the Bronx to Manhattan. The decision had been made.

At 5:03 PM, I stepped out of the 66th Street–Lincoln Center station, feverishly texting my friend my ETA, only to discover that she was running late as well.

Within minutes, I made my way to the hotel. As I stepped into the lobby, I immediately noticed the perfect spot to sit.

The backdrop complemented my outfit beautifully, so I settled into the vestibule to wait. After admiring the setting for a moment, I realized I was hot all over again. Fortunately, a cool stream of air-conditioning drifted through a nearby passageway.

The lobby attendant must have noticed my attempt to cool down and graciously invited me into the main reception area. There, I continued exchanging messages with my friend, who by this point was running even later than expected.

With a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to visit the powder room and freshen up.

Just as I was finishing, my phone buzzed.

My friend had finally arrived.

After one last glance in the mirror, I made my way downstairs to meet her. We connected almost instantly, but the moment I saw her face, I knew something was up.

She gave me that look girlfriends give each other—the look that says, “Don’t move. He’s right there.”

Less than twenty feet away stood Jack Schlossberg, grandson of President John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, accompanied by his assistant.

Ironically, it appeared he had also been running late.

In fact, he had arrived at almost the exact same moment as my friend.

As we made our way toward the elevator, he did too. And just as my friend had hoped—perhaps even envisioned—we found ourselves sharing a genuine moment of connection at precisely the right moment. We even rode the elevator together, gaining a few unexpected minutes in the presence of a member of one of America’s most beloved families.

Yet what struck me most wasn’t the encounter itself.

It was the timing of everything.

The oppressive heat.

The indecision between Uber and train.

The rush-hour commute.

My friend’s delay.

My decision to sit in the vestibule.

The trip to the powder room.

Jack’s late arrival.

Every delay seemed to create the exact conditions necessary for our paths to cross.

And yes, as fate would have it, we shared the elevator once again while leaving. This time, we even captured a photograph together—one I won’t share out of respect for his privacy and appreciation for the moment itself.

What stayed with me long after the evening ended was the reminder that life is often being arranged behind the scenes in ways we cannot yet see.

Sometimes what feels like an inconvenience is actually an appointment.

Sometimes a delay is not a disruption but a redirection.

How many opportunities have arrived because we missed a train, took a different route, lingered a little longer, or showed up a few minutes late?

We rarely recognize Divine Timing while it’s happening. More often, we only see it when we look back and notice how every small decision, every detour, and every delay aligned with remarkable precision.

That evening reminded me that perhaps not everything is happening to us.

Sometimes, it’s happening for us. Right on Time!

Has Divine Timing ever made an appointment for you?

With love
Cealle