What we call chance is, to the believer, the working out of God’s Providence. I could say the fact that I am now an author was chance, but it makes sense if I believe that God diverted me from my original goal to become a physicist, rather than attributing it to blind chance.
Look at the beauty of the way I went. When told by advisers not to choose the path of science, but of literature, who opened up to me but Flannery O’Connor, G.K. Chesterton, Gene Caesar, Pat Conroy, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and many others. I would never otherwise have met them.
That was not chance. It was ordained the day I was born, George Washington’s birthday, because as the Christian Brother said to me: “You’re color blind, and a physicist can’t be color blind.”