When I first started thinking about the word “miracle,” I thought about God’s supernatural work where impossible occurrences come together for His great plan. As they are out of the ordinary, miracles certainly wouldn’t happen to ordinary people like me.
I don’t mean any of this to say I don’t believe God works regularly in my life. I just find His work to be quieter than my stereotypical idea of a miracle. Occasionally, though, He does remind us of His presence in a way that is miraculous, simply by showing He knows exactly where we are and what we’re doing. One of these times happened for me several years ago.
“Occasionally, He does remind us of His presence in a way that’s miraculous.”
I had been struggling with odd tingling in my feet and legs for a couple of months when I woke up one morning with my left arm numb. I went to a general practitioner who referred me to a neurologist. I was then tested me for a variety of problems over the course of a year. Somewhere in that year, I started to feel weary of the testing. All the tests confirmed was that I had neuropathy which, although something, didn’t really get me anywhere. Many of tests I took were for life-impacting illnesses: multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, various immune disorders.
Nothing came up positive. However, the testing kept taking time and my results were frequently bungled in the lab. (Have you ever thought to yourself you enjoyed taking a medical test the first time so much that you’d like to take it a second time because the results were destroyed? Yeah, me neither.)
In the midst of all this testing, I started thinking about where God was in all of this. I wondered if he was paying attention to me. I prayed for Him to let me know He knew where I was.
One day, during this time of thinking, wondering, and praying, I drove my two boys to visit their grandmother. For no discernibly good reason, I left my mother-in-law’s house 15 minutes later than I had planned.
I was close to our home when I turned from an incredibly busy, rush-hour filled street onto a side street in our neighborhood. I noticed a five year old friend of one of my sons walking down the side street toward the busy street. I was struck by the determined look on her face. She clearly had an idea about where she was going.
After a moment or two, I realized I didn’t see the rest of her family with her. I knew something was wrong. I parked quickly and got out of my car as fast as I could with my two young boys. Several other cars had stopped and adults were talking with the child. I ran over to the girl. She was upset with her babysitter so she had left that person. I explained to the crowd I knew her and would call her parents.
I called the child’s mom, told her what happened, and waited until the girl’s father picked her up. These parents told me more than once that I saved their daughter’s life, but I have never seen the situation that way. I’ve always felt like God was, by putting me there, letting me know He knew exactly where I was.
Only a God who pays attention could have orchestrated all the events that led to me where I could participate in protecting a five year old.
“I have always felt like God was letting me know He knew exactly where I was.”
Since this incident, I haven’t experienced healing of my neuropathy. I still don’t even know what causes it. What I do know is that God sees me in my struggle, and He desires to use me in it.
And that feels miraculous.
In God’s constant care,
Jesus revealed Himself to me in my thirties, entirely changing my life. I am a wife to Mike and a mother to our two elementary school-aged boys. I no longer sign up for every volunteer opportunity I see because I work as Children’s Ministry Coordinator for Central Presbyterian Church.
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