This week marks the 20th anniversary of when I bought my Florida home.

I realize now that buying a home directs your future in more ways than you realize at the time.

I’m seldom a person that makes snap decisions when it comes to buying. I go through a lot of thought and second guessing even when I’m buying something as simple as a new dress. So buying a new home was monumental. And scary.

It was the first major thing I bought after my husband died. Funny though. I was looking to buy a Florida home in an area I didn’t know and would be moving to a place where I knew no one. Yet, that part wasn’t scary because I knew the move was right for me.

I knew I wanted a small, affordable home with a water view. When my Realtor and I would pull up to a home, I wouldn’t go inside unless there was a water view. That annoyed my Realtor, but I thought it would be unfair to take someone’s time if I wasn’t interested in buying the place.

Finally she took me to two Rotonda homes on water. When I walked into the smaller of the two places, my heart knew I had found what I wanted. I immediately put a contract on the home.

The problem was four other people did the same thing, all on the first day the home was for sale. I walked around back to speak with the owner and asked one question that was important to me: What were the neighbors like? She said she was sorry to be moving because the neighbors were like family.

For sure that was what I wanted, but some of the other bids were cash sales with no request for a home inspection.

I was impressed with Kay, the owner of the house. When she told me about her battle with cancer I thought she was incredibly brave to be moving and planning to get married.

She said she needed time to decide to whom she would sell her house. I was overcome with emotion and started to cry when Kay’s Realtor called to say she decided to sell the home to me.

I knew I would love living there. What I didn’t know was what came with the home - a deep and lasting friendship with Kay, one of the most remarkable women I ever met. She’s the kind of friend that inspires me to be a better person.

She never says a bad word about anyone and is so kindhearted that she doesn’t even think ill of anyone, not even the most obnoxious person.

If you’re like me, you might be skeptical that even in the secret recesses of one’s mind someone doesn’t have a harsh opinion. Nor does she let me get away with judging harshly.

I’ve often called Kay the neighborhood angel and she was exactly that in helping an older woman who didn’t drive settle into her new home. Driving Shirley around was almost a full-time, thankless job.

At Kay’s suggestion I went to help a few times. Honestly, I found Shirley hard to take. She bragged constantly about how much money she had and how things were so much better in New York.

When Shirley needed a ride to church I gladly said I would take her. Shirley informed me I also “had” to take her to breakfast each week after church because that was what she always did in New York.

I didn’t mind taking her to breakfast. What did bother me was Shirley’s ugly conversation about Kay and other neighbors. It was vicious.

Any peace I gained in church was lost at breakfast.

After a few weeks of this, I had enough. I stopped taking Shirley to church. Only Kay remained a faithful helper until Shirley moved away.

Ten years later when Kay read a column I wrote about difficult people who were hard to take, she remarked that she never met anyone like that.

When I reminder her about Shirley’s meanness, she said I had to understand Shirley had a tough life. “Sometimes it affects people and we have to overlook any rough parts of their nature,” Kay said.

Kay claims she never met anyone who wasn’t worth knowing. I have often said a prayer of thankfulness for her upbeat, always positive nature.

I can’t count the number of times she has lifted my spirits, changed my prospective on something or had me thanking God for her presence in my life.

What are the odds that I would come to a new area knowing no one yet find this gem of a friend when I bought her home?

I don’t think it was luck. I call it fate.

Luck is a game of chance. Fate is a game of trust. Fate is a force that helps shape our life. I call that force God.

Others may call it something different.

For me, it’s trust in the good and loving God that has taken care of me all my life. I seldom call something fate. But it sure is interesting to ponder fate versus happenstance.

Fate isn’t always kind.

But when it is it’s just one more reason to be thankful for this wondrous life.

Email Pattie Mihalik at newsgirl@comcast.net

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