Four-leaf clovers are kind of my thing.

Since I was a kid, I’ve had the uncanny ability to find them without effort. Growing up surrounded by nature, I collected hundreds of them. I’d be on a trail ride, glance down, and see one six feet below me, so I’d hop off my horse and pick it.

Or, I’d be mowing the lawn and notice one in a patch of grass in front of me. I’d swerve around the area so I could go back and grab it when I was finished mowing.

Noticing these little lucky charms has been a gift I carried through adulthood.

On a 24-hour trip to Paris, I found one.

Walking my dog in Chicago, I found one.

During a 10-mile run in Germany, I found one.

Finishing a walk with a friend in Kentucky, I found one.

For several years, I didn’t think much about it. It was just a silly party trick. But now, I think my ability to spot a four-leaf clover in a field of “common” clovers is a little deeper. I never have to search for them; they find me. And when I do try to look for them, they don’t reveal themselves.

My natural tendency is to fall into a scarcity mindset. But for decades, through the four-leaf clover phenomenon, maybe I’ve been in training to discover that there is enough. Maybe it’s my little green sign from the universe that what’s meant for me will find me. That if I relax and trust, I’ll know that more four-leaf clovers will show up and remind me that I have everything I need.

Now, four-leaf clovers are symbols of abundance, a reminder that the universe is conspiring for my greater good, and that when I’m not searching, I’m most likely to discover them.