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BAFFLED
by Anne |
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| | I have always believed in miracles, but mostly I thought the tangible, can't-explain-it-any-other-way kind, happened to other people.
| | The first inkling I had of experiencing one myself was when my dear partner started yelling at me in email.
| | My best friend and partner is the finest man I have ever met. His handshake is his promise, and he never breaks a promise. He is an old-school man rarely found without his trademark baseball hat perched on his head. Jed's a tough-talking ex-ball player with a heart of gold who loves children, baseball, and trains. He is also probably the most stubborn man I have ever met. That's why it took him so long to make the phone call he needed to make.
| | Jed and I started building a business together over a year ago and we pour our hearts into it. We have an added pressure to building this business, though. Part of our race has been to get Jed the medical attention he needs. My partner would rather suffer physically than owe anyone money. So Jed kept working on our company and ignoring the pain that was his constant companion. We suspected muscular sclerosis (MS) might be the diagnosis.
| | Jed has kept most of his pain a secret from his family. I'm the one person who knew what effort it cost him to get through a day, and all I could do was pray. It wasn't until his legs started giving out at unexpected times that Jed acknowledged that this illness might be more stubborn than he was.
| | This concession on Jed's part had me immediately scouring the Internet for information. Within minutes I had a list of neurologists in his area that I sent to him in email. It was with great aggravation that my partner promised he'd call one of the doctors that following Monday.
| | Monday morning I prayed on the way to work; my usual habit. But unlike my usual prayers of thanks, this morning I petitioned God for my partner. I was very specific with God - I asked that Jed please not be told he had to have a referring physician when he called the neurologist, that he be given an appointment within a short time, and that Medicare insurance not be a problem. I was afraid any discouragement would stop my partner from pursuing treatment.
| | It didn't take long that morning for me to receive email from my partner.
| | "Yes, I have an appointment," I read. "You are such a monumental brat! I know what you did and you have to stop interfering!"
| | Bewildered, I picked up the phone and called my friend.
| | Jed told me that he had called the neurologist as promised, though the phone number was wrong and the name misspelled, so it took some searching. When he finally connected he was asked for his social security number.
| | "Oh yes, we have you in the computer," the receptionist told him.
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"What!" was Jed's astonished reply. "How could you? I've never called you before."
| | The woman proceeded to read off his name, social security number, and birth date from her computer. She had a note that Jed was coming in for symptoms of MS, and had a notation about his Medicare insurance, which was no problem.
| | Needless to say Jed was shocked. He knew the only person in this world who could have contacted that doctor was me, his interfering partner. The receptionist said they had received information about him a couple of days earlier and had been expecting his call.
| | But of course, I didn't call that neurologist. I couldn't have. I had no idea which doctor Jed would phone, and I don't know his social security number.
| | The doctor's office is just as baffled as we are. They have no clue who called that day and gave them all the information about my partner for their database. Jed was the only one who knew which doctor he would contact. Well, that's not entirely true.
| | Jed's just the only one on Earth who knew. As for me, the only explanation I can come up with is that sometimes God answers prayers in very tangible ways... and maybe, occasionally angels make phone calls.
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| | Anne Goodrich
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| | Anne says: "I am a web designer and webmaster for an educational institution in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Since writing this, my partner and I have found out that he doesn't have MS, as we and the neurologists at the University of Michigan suspected. Jed has spinal cord damage from an old injury, and surgery will stop the its progression. However, the damage that has already been done is irreversible, which emphasizes to me even more why it was so urgent that Jed make that phone call, and why perhaps we had a little providential assistance along the way."
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| | The experience Anne had has led her to create her web site. Please do visit it at ohangel.com
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An Angel at the Hospital
by Monica |
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| | I have a great aunt (my grandmother's sister) who lived for years without her kidneys, either of them. One of her sister's donated one of her kidneys but the transplant failed. My great aunt was on dialysis for years and went through a lot of pain and suffering. She spent a lot of time at Stanford Hospital (in California) and the doctors who treated her and knew of her called her a walking miracle.
| | At one point, my aunt took a turn for the absolute worst. She was on her deathbed and given 24 hours to live. The doctors said it was hopeless and there was no way she would survive. All seven of her children were called to the hospital and they had begun to make funeral arrangements.
| | At one point some of her children were sitting in one of the family waiting rooms consoling each other. A man, a stranger to the family, approached one of my aunt's children (my Godmother). Later when my Godmother related this story she said someone she had never seen before came into the room and sat beside her. She had been closest to the door by herself. She said this stranger took her hand and told her not to worry because her mother would be just fine.
| | My Godmother could remember nothing about the physical appearance of this man, only that he had the most beautiful and soothing voice she had ever heard. She said there was something about his voice that immediately comforted her. After "he" spoke that one sentence to her, she turned to call the attention of another one of her sisters and when she turned back to the "man," he was gone.
| | She jumped up and went out into the hall to look for him and he had somehow vanished. Stanford Hospital is huge and the halls are very long. This "person" would have had to have walked some distance to exit, yet he vanished in the moment in took my Godmother to turn her head and turn back.
| | My Godmother asked nurses, doctors and other staff in the hallway if they had seen a "man" entering or leaving the room and no one had seen him.
| | At the time, she didn't really know what to make of what had happened but she knew that something amazing had just taken place. She said she no longer felt worried and a sense of calm came over her. A few hours later, one of my Aunt's doctors approached the family and said that my Aunt was stabilizing and it looked like she was going to make it. He said it was a miracle and that medically he had never seen anything like it. Well my great aunt did make it and we had her for a few more years.
| | I know that for my family, emotionally and spiritually, we had never seen anything like it and it is our family's own private miracle. I remember the last time I saw my Aunt. We were at my grandmother's for a family get-together and as she was leaving, I got up to help walk her to the car. As she was getting in the car, I felt the need to really hold on to her and hug tight. I remember holding her in my arms, taking in her scent and saying "I love you Auntie, I really love you." It was the last time I ever saw her. My aunt passed away shortly after.
| | I don't know what brought that "man" into the waiting room or what made me somehow know I would never see my Aunt again but whatever it was it gave me faith and a belief in something greater and better than what we usually limit ourselves to knowing.
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| | Monica Buer
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The Party
by Terri |
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| | My family was "poor" while I was growing up. This fact in itself didn't bother me much because it was the only life I knew. It wasn't until some of the kids on the school bus began teasing us about the state of our home and the outbuildings that I became self-conscious of our home. I enjoyed visiting with friends at school but wouldn't invite them to my house for fear of further ridicule.
| | We lived in an old rambling farmhouse that the owners let us have rent-free in exchange for "keeping an eye on things." They didn't want the house, barns or farm machinery vandalized. While this home had probably been considered grand at some point in it's past, it had become very worn-down. There were certain boards on the porch that we avoided stepping on for fear of falling through. There was no indoor plumbing at first, but eventually my dad and uncle managed to put cold running water in the kitchen, replacing the old hand pump that was perched in the corner.
| | The neighbors to the west of us had a dairy farm. It so happened that they also had two daughters the same ages and grades as my sister and me. We spent a lot of time walking across the backfields to visit each other during the grade school years.
| | Time has a way of moving on while we're not looking. Junior high school came and went and we all entered high school. There were more students and more classes, and we saw less and less of the neighbor girls. However, we shared a few classes and a few mutual friends and were able to keep up-to-date on current boyfriends and all the other earth-shattering events in each others lives.
| | Through mutual friends is how I happened to hear about the party. My neighbor and friend was having a skating party at their pond. I kept waiting and hoping for an invitation. I finally realized that I hadn't seen my friend as much for the past few days. I couldn't help but wonder if she was avoiding me.
| | The weekend of the party was rapidly approaching and I'd yet to receive an invitation. The party was to be held on a Saturday. The day before, at school, I couldn't contain myself any longer. I deliberately sought out the neighbor and asked as nonchalant a way as possible how the party plans were progressing. I had hoped that once I mentioned it, I would receive my much anticipated invitation.
| | She looked me right in the eye and told me the party was postponed. She said her dad had checked the ice that morning and didn't feel it was frozen solid enough for safe skating. I went onto my next class and began wondering if I would be invited once the next date was set.
| | The next day dawned cold, crisp and clear. I had to venture outside in the afternoon to get more coal for the stove. While out at the coal pile, I heard the unmistakable sounds of fun and frolic coming from the direction of the neighbor's farm. Just to make sure my ears hadn't deceived me, I sat down on the back step and listened for several minutes. Those were definitely sounds of good-natured yelling and laughing I'd heard.
| | I sat and cried. I kept wondering why my friend had lied to me. Why didn't she want to associate with me anymore? What had I done to make her dislike me? I was finally driven back inside by the cold. I cried and pondered this situation for the rest of the day.
| | When we returned to school on Monday I didn't let on that I knew she'd
lied to me. However, at one point we made eye contact with each other and she was the first to look away. I wondered then if she'd seen the hurt in my eyes. Maybe it's my imagination or maybe it was just coincidence, but from that day forward we had very little contact with each other.
| | I became more aware of and embarrassed by my old, ramshackle home and my second hand and home made clothes. I felt as though I weren't "good enough" in my classmates eyes for them to associate with me. I was in the National Honor Society; I was always one of the first to be picked in gym class to be on a team; I was on the school newspaper staff; I always helped with decorating or whatever needed done. I talked to a lot of the other students while working on projects together and I seemed to be pretty well liked by everyone. But I was never invited to any social functions outside of school.
| | Was it because people judged me by my home and clothes? Or was it because I'd begun to feel inferior and tried to keep a distance between myself and my classmates so as not to be hurt again? To this day I don't know for sure.
| | But whenever I see a small child out in public whose clothes and appearance aren't exactly "up to par," I get tears in my eyes. The tears are because I KNOW the hurt, humiliation and frustration this child may suffer just because her haircut isn't of the latest style or her clothes aren't name brand.
| | It's possible, however, that her classmates are the ones who are missing out on creating some happy memories. Just maybe, her mom makes the best homemade cookies in town. Just maybe, her sense of humor would make her the life of the party if given a chance. Just maybe, she would be the one true friend who would stand beside you in a time of need, when others have abandoned ship. Just maybe, she had a relative who died with honor defending our country in war.
| | Whenever you see a child who looks a little "inferior" to her peers, stop and think, "just maybe....."
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| | T. Davis -
Copyright 1999
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Watching My Baby
by Ruth |
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| | I know angels are real. I feel angels watching over me almost all the time, even now as I write this there is a presence with me. I can't see anything or anyone, but the feeling is so strong that I'm being watched over, most of the time on my right side, sometimes behind me.
| | One day when the children were still quite young I believe an angel simply took over one of my mothering chores. This incident took place when my daughter (now almost 21 years old) was an infant, about 3-4 months old. Her brother, 3 1/2 years older than her, was in pre-school, and my husband was at work. When they got home about 3:30 pm this particular day, my husband asked why the baby was covered. This was summer time and hot.
| | The crib was along the same wall as the air conditioning vent, so he figured I'd covered our daughter. I hadn't. She and I were the only ones at home and at this stage in her life, she wasn't even turning over yet, so I know SHE didn't do it. Who then?
| | An angel, that's who. Tell me angels aren't real, I won't believe it. They are VERY real, I know it.
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| | Ruth
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The Man
by Eva Marie Everson |
| (Exerpt from "Pinches of Salt, Prisms of Light" by Carmen Leal and Eva Marie Everson)
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| | My friends called Daddy "The Man" long before "You da man!" ever became a popular catch phrase. When it came to law enforcement, Daddy was a natural. Love for his work ran through his veins thicker than blood ever could. When I was born, Daddy worked as a license examiner with the Georgia State Patrol. He became a patrolman a few years later and, in 1968, graduated from the FBI Academy in Washington, D.C. When he returned to Georgia, he took a job with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, first as a Special Investigator and later in the GCIC (Georgia Crime Information Center).
| | In the early 1970's, when Mr. Jimmy Carter was Governor of our great state, the GCIC obtained a new administrator, Mr. Beardsley. Something about Mr. Beardsley and Daddy didn't quite gel, so working with him was an exercise in faith. When Mr. Beardsley decided that Daddy should take a transfer from our hometown of Sylvania (where Daddy had been stationed for nearly twenty years) to the remote town of Alma, the true test of Daddy's faith began.
| | Not wanting the transfer had nothing to do with lack of respect for authority. My mother had been ill for several years and was under the constant care of physicians; her doctors were adamant that she not move from the area. Also, my parents did not want to uproot my brother and me. Given these two factors, Daddy refused the transfer.
| | Mr. Beardsley was not pleased. In what could only be a power play, he sent my father "on the road" for an "undetermined" amount of time. I remember Daddy standing in the middle of our solid knotty-pine kitchen, telling Mama that he would only be home once every three weeks or so. "If he had poured hot water over me, it couldn't have been any more of a shock," he said. And so he packed his bags and began "living" in State Patrol offices.
| | When Daddy came home for a day or two, I would run through the house and into his arms. Daddy's hugs were desired bear hugs, in spite of the fact that the handle of his gun dug painfully into my flesh. Over Mama's delicious, home-style dinner, we would listen attentively as he told us of his travels, and how much he missed us . . . especially at night. "I don't know why Mr. Beardsley has chosen to do this," he said. "But every morning and every night I read the Twenty-seventh Psalm. It gives me the courage and strength to get through this. And I know that one day God will bless me and change this man's heart."
| | From that day on, I read Psalm Twenty-seven on a daily basis, allowing it to penetrate my heart and mind. I believed the words, even though I saw no evidence of the promises found there.
| | One afternoon, after a year had gone by, Mama was outside in the yard. Having just killed a snake with her shovel (an act she later would later call prophetic), she was still excited when she ran in to answer the ringing telephone.
| | "Hello?"
| | "I just got the word," Daddy said from the other end. "I'm coming home. This time for good."
| | Daddy was right. God was true to His promises. I had learned a lesson that I would never forget. Today, if you turn to the twenty-seventh Psalm in my Bible, you will see written in bold letters: Daddy's Psalm. Every time I see those words, I remember.
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| | Eva Marie Everson grew up in a rural southern town in Georgia just outside of Savannah. She is married, has three children, and lives in Orlando, Florida where she currently writes for several ministries. She teaches Old Testament theology at Life Training Center in Longwood, Florida and home-schooled her youngest daughter, a 1999 graduate. She publishes a daily Internet devotional ministry, "Debbie's Place," and is featured regularly in The Godly Business Woman Magazine.
| | Eva Marie is the author of True Love: Engaging Stories of Real-Life Proposals (Barbour/Promise Press, Fall 2000) and is currently under contract to write One True Vow (Barbour/Promise Press, projected 2001). She is the co-author of Pinches of Salt, Prisms of Light (Essence, 1999) and a contributing author to a number of publications, including: Seasons of a Woman's Heart (Starburst, 1999), God's Abundance for Women (Starburst, October 1999), More God's Abundance (Starburst, October 1999), Teacups for Moms (Honor, projected 2000), God Is Still in the Healing Business (HarperCollins, projected 2000), Since Life is Not a Game, Here are the Rules (Starburst, 1999), and Stricken: The Hidden Epidemic (Haworth Press, projected 2000). Mrs. Everson is currently working on her second novel and will be a contributor to a coffee-table book compiled and edited by Kathleen Jackson, publisher of The Godly Business Woman Magazine.
| | Eva Marie is a graduate of CLASS (Christian Leaders, Authors, Speakers Services) and a Certified Personality Trainer. She is a noted speaker on a variety of subjects ranging from Etiquette for Young Christian Ladies and Gentlemen to theological studies, workshops, retreats and seminars. Her seminar, Reach, 2000, is a bi-annual workshop used to train leaders at Northland, A Church Distributed (Orlando).
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