The Godwink That Reminds Me God’s Got This—and He Gets Me

A blessing 31—or more—years in the making

I’ve known my newest daughter-in-law longer than I’ve known my son—or husband.

So crazy, right? But it’s true!

This latest fun fact about me feels like God is nudging me, saying, “See? I know your heart. I’ve got you. I always did.”

And even though it took two deaths and two marriages—one on December 1, 2025—to get to this point of the story, I can’t wait to see what God does next.

1994: A big love

I knew if I fell in love with Steve Dagen, I would have to fall in love not only with his children—but also their mother, Mary Lee.

“I can do that,” I sobbed into Steve’s shoulder one night after the children had gone to bed. “But can I say goodbye—again—to Bill?”

We had been dating for all of six weeks, and I already had Steve’s engagement ring on my finger. Our rapid romance—usually with four children in tow—had been punctuated by heartfelt conversations that delved into the depths of our grief and joy.

This night, my heart was stripped bare. I had known from our second date that Mary Lee would be part of our love life. I had.

But I hadn’t considered how my first husband wouldn’t be.

“You don’t have to say goodbye,” Steve said, trying to console me. “Bill will be part of our family, too.”

But I knew better. Bill was only my love. Mary Lee was Steve’s, her children’s, her family’s, and her friends’. And her husband, her children, her family, and her friends would become mine, too. Her memory, her photos, and her name would remain a constant presence. For all of us.

While I would put together photo albums for each of Mary Lee’s children—and include her photos and stories to the best of my ability—and hang her portraits on our walls, I would shelve Bill’s photos and tuck our memories deep in my heart. My memories. Only.

Back in 1990

Although Bill and I had hoped to have children one day, we didn’t have any of our own, but we did have one year of teaching in a classroom full of precocious four-year-olds. Between 1990 and early 1991, when Bill was healthy and eager to have fun, we taught a weekly children’s church class at Creekside Community Church.

The Sunday school classrooms bordered the church playground, a temptation to the children, no doubt, but they still seemed eager to enter our small room. Each week, I chatted with the parents as I welcomed our students; their bright smiles and Sunday best outfits were a testament to their excitement about joining us.

Bill got them busy as we awaited the other children, sitting at the table with crayons and coloring sheets related to the day’s story. I would narrate the story while Bill maneuvered the characters and sceneries onto the felt board, never just pressing them into place but often making the characters dance or flip on their way to the board as the children giggled—but paid attention.

“Our God is so big,” we would sing, “so strong and so mighty,” with the children joining us to flex our muscular biceps as a show of God’s strength.

In that small classroom, we were not Mr. and Mrs. Olson. Instead, the children called me “Miss Sara” and him “Mr. Bill”—or “Silly Bill” when he employed his crazy antics to keep their attention. It was a year to remember.

One of our precious four-year-olds was a little girl named Wendy Norman. Just before Christmas, less than two months ago, she became my daughter-in-law.

The reality of big love

When I married Steve in November of 1994, it was as if I entered the Witness Protection Program. I quit my career as a journalist to become an instant mother to four children, Stephen, 9; Ben, 8; Laura, 5; and AJ, 3. I sold my house and moved into Steve’s home. I left my cat with my former roommate and adopted the Dagens’ cat. I sold my Honda Civic to drive his Mitsubishi van. His in-laws became my in-loves. (Truly!) His (and Mary Lee’s) friends became mine.

I also left my church—and those children’s church students, now eight-year-olds, and their parents, who had become my friends—to attend Steve’s church.  

I built a new life with my instant family, but it was hard. For one, the reality of marrying a man with four children wasn’t as romantic as the thought of it. While I could imagine ours a match made in heaven, I had to walk it out on earth. In an established family.

Bill’s death had ended our dream of having children together. The rental house we were to move into the week following his death was released to other renters.

And though marrying a man with four children seemed a way to “restore the years the locusts had eaten” (Joel 2:25-32) or make up for my lost childbearing years, I wasn’t building our parenting life from the hopes and anticipation upward.

I was learning to live as a Dagen, following their norms and fitting into their culture, losing more of myself to be the wife and mother I was expected to be. As much as I loved my old friends and colleagues, I was too busy being a Dagen to spend time like old Sara. A year and a half later, when Steve and I welcomed our son Adam into the family, I was even busier.

Touches of my past

Once in a while, my hand would touch the small, framed photo of Bill and me I’d tucked inside my sock drawer, but, overall, the demands of my current life kept me focused on the now and the future.

However, in our third year of marriage, my old life began to merge with my new one. It flickered to life with Wendy Norman, who ended up in the same fifth-grade class as my second-oldest son, Ben, at Gainesville Christian Academy.

She, along with many of the girls in her class, had a crush on this cute son of mine. But Wendy told me recently that she had captured her crush in her journal, where she wrote about her dream of marrying into a large family and marrying, specifically, Ben Dagen.

Because I had homeschooled Laura and AJ for several years and taught writing to a group of other homeschooled children, taking on the role of classroom teacher seemed the likely next step. And when Gainesville Christian Academy’s middle school math teacher left just before the start of the new school year, I was asked to teach math to the 7th- and 8th-grade classes.

So, I started teaching Algebra to Wendy and Ben’s class in their eighth-grade year, but neither was there. Wendy’s family had moved to Miami; Ben had asked to attend public school instead after the class had dwindled down to nine students—eight girls and one boy.

(One of those eight female students called me her future mother-in-law the entire year.)

After graduating from high school, Wendy returned to Gainesville to attend the University of Florida, which Ben also attended, but their paths never crossed.

Pssst, pssst Wendy Norman

Three years ago, I heard “Wendy Norman” dropped into my sons’ conversations.

“We have to stop in Savannah for Ben,” one of my sons mock-complained to another, as they contemplated their annual boys’ trip to the mountains. “He has to see Wendy Norman.”

Wendy Norman? Could it be my Wendy Norman? I wondered. But the conversation wasn’t directed at me, and I didn’t want to pry. But I listened. As the year passed, I overheard her name more and more—and two years ago, Ben brought her to Thanksgiving dinner at our house.

It was my Wendy Norman!

She and I had a lot of catching up to do, and that Thanksgiving meal prep was the perfect way to do it. I welcomed her with a hug, and we spent hours together as she helped me chop, mix, and cook for the big meal. It was like catching up with an old friend. It was a heartwarming nod to the past—and a hope for the future.

She and Ben had connected on Facebook the year before, when she was exploring the expansion of her photography and elopement event business from Savannah, Georgia, to St. Petersburg, Florida, where Ben had moved just months before.

They met for a meal—and now they’re together for a lifetime.

Thanksgiving 2025

This year, we hosted an early Thanksgiving with our family, which included Wendy’s parents, as Ben and Wendy were heading to New Zealand over the holiday to elope.

I now have a daughter-in-law I’ve known longer than my son or my husband. And she remembers Bill. That seems like what some people call a “Godwink,” but for me it feels like a smile from God. His way of tying my beautiful life as a Dagen to both marriages made in heaven for me. And Wendy’s match with Ben.

As I look back on my journey, I realize that I’ve learned to cherish the memories of my past while embracing the beauty of my present. My identity is not defined by a single role or relationship, but by the complex tapestry of experiences and connections that God has woven together into a beautiful story of my life.

And I’m so glad Wendy is a part of it.

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How about you?

I’d love to hear about your own “Godwink” moments. Have you ever experienced a surprising connection or coincidence that felt like a smile from God? Share your story in a comment below.