A couple of days later I called a dear friend in Salt Lake City to ask when she and her husband planned to drive out of state for the high school graduation of a grandson, who would be leaving on a mission to the Philippines shortly thereafter. “FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK THAT,” she said.

They had planned to travel for the graduation but made an unexpected trip before then.

This grandson (let us refer to him as GG, for golden grandson) is a fine, unassuming young man and in the school year just ending was discovered to be a surprisingly talented baseball pitcher, such that he became the coach’s go-to player to send in at critical junctures. It was a delight for his family to watch this unfold, and he acquired many admirers among those attending the games.

On this night, his team was playing its last game and it was for a regional championship. My friend’s husband really wanted to be there (well, they both did!), but it would mean quite a long drive there and back when they were already planning to go for graduation in another couple of weeks. She could not bring herself to commit to the extra trip.

At approximately the same time on the morning I awoke with my “This is a momentous day” thought, however, she awoke and thought, “LET’S GO.” She and her husband hurriedly threw a few things in their car and, driving like bats out of, um, Hades, made the 12-hour drive in ten. They arrived at the game 15 minutes before it began. Also helping to fill the stands was a group of deacons and teachers from the GG’s home ward, who had driven 90 minutes to see the game.

As it turned out, his team did win the regional title fair and square, but not without a lot of drama, the kind of drama that got written up in sports articles that went national. Contrary to his previous record of gloriously closing out wins for the team, the GG walked player after player. The coach came out to the mound to talk to him more than once, but did not replace him. A hit by the other team which allowed multiple runners in was judged to be good. The stadium lights flashed and the announcer proclaimed that team the winner. Others closer to the play called it into question and it was determined to be a false call. The action was reset and in the end the GG’s team did prevail, although he felt let down about his performance. (Very notably, he never lost his composure and remarkably kept a smile throughout.) As it turned out, the game was not only his last game but also his coach’s last one before retiring after 25 years in the job (and the last time the school had won the championship was 25 years earlier, also at the previous coach’s last game). It was quite an unusual set of circumstances altogether.

I can’t say I understand why it was important for me to know of the day’s significance. I had never met this young man or his parents. I do know it reminded me of how revelation sometimes comes to me, and how different it feels from a simple random thought. As I listened to my friend’s story over the phone, if we hadn’t been 1100 miles apart, I know we would have stared at each other in thoughtful stupefaction.

My best guesses are:

Sometimes it isn’t about us.

Sometimes we are called to confirm events, the significance of which might not be revealed until many years pass, and then be revealed in multiple ways.

And sometimes Heavenly Father has a close eye on a particular ball.