Samuel the prophet once stood at the bank of a river and watched a strange sight. A frog was swimming across the water with a scorpion riding on its back. The scorpion could not swim. The frog could not sting. Together, by some secret arrangement of heaven, they were crossing to the far side where a man stood waiting.
Samuel said nothing. He did not shout a warning. He did not run to intervene. He watched as the frog deposited its passenger on the far bank, and he watched as the scorpion struck the waiting man, and he watched as the man fell dead.
Then Samuel opened his mouth and quoted a verse from the Psalms: "They continue this day according to thine ordinances, for all are thy servants" (Psalms 119:91). Even the frog. Even the scorpion. Even the current of the river that carried them. Every creature, every movement, every coincidence is already enlisted in a judgment the human eye cannot see.
The Talmud preserves this teaching in tractate Nedarim (41a) to remind us that hashgacha pratit, individual providence, sometimes rides on the back of a frog. What looks like a freak accident may be the longest sentence in a much older story.