TANA

At the start of every new year, most people look forward — making plans, setting goals, and chasing the next thing.

But today, on January 6, my wife and I are celebrating our third wedding anniversary, and instead of looking ahead, I find myself looking back. We were married in a yoga studio called TANA. And it wasn’t just a cool or unique venue — it was intentional.

For me, TANA has always been more than a word; it’s been a longtime belief — There Are No Accidents. Years before our wedding, I met my friend, Amy, who owns that studio. She came from a completely different background, a TANA perspective rooted in her own journey of meaning and mindfulness. And I came to the same truth from a faith-filled place — the words of Pope Saint John Paul II: “In God’s divine providence, there are no accidents.”

Two different paths, two different languages — but they pointed to the same truth. Her belief and mine didn’t compete; they aligned and affirmed one another. And that shared understanding became something sacred.

When my wife and I chose to be married in that space, it wasn’t random — it was symbolic. A physical expression of what we both already knew in our hearts: that our stories, though full of unexpected turns, were meant to intersect.

Three years later, I still see little reminders that I’m where I’m supposed to be, spending life with a person I am supposed to be spending life with. Most often it is when my wife and I are thinking the same exact thing while we’re in different places. Maybe we show it to each other or notice it when we send each other virtually the same Snap. Or when I’m out running errands and I pick something up for her, only to find out when I get home her saying, “Oh, I was going to ask you about this.” Or just the other day I was at the store and thought it would be fun to have cinnamon rolls some morning for breakfast. So I picked up a package of cinnamon rolls to bake for the family. I put them in the fridge and didn’t say anything about them. Two days later, my wife is getting groceries for the week. We were putting away groceries together when she got home, and she said, “I thought it would be fun to make cinnamon rolls,” and she pulled out the same package of cinnamon rolls that I had gotten. Those are small instances, but I see them time and time again — sometimes in small ways like that, and sometimes in much bigger ways.

Looking back now, I can see the fingerprints of grace all over the path that led us here — through disorientation, transition, and rediscovery.

It’s like that Darius Rucker song that says life’s twists and turns “led me here to you.” What once felt like coincidence now feels more like choreography. Even if you don’t share my faith, maybe you can see it too — the threads that connect where you’ve been to who you’ve become. So as we step into a new year, I’m not rushing ahead.

I’m sitting in gratitude for what’s behind — the people, moments, and surprises that have shaped me. Maybe, just maybe, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be too.

What story from your life only makes sense now that you can look back?
What “accident” turned out to be providence?

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