Miracles Don't Happen Every Day

The definition of miracle is, an extraordinary and astonishing happening that is attributed to the presence and action of an ultimate or divine power. 

By definition a miracle is not something that happens every day. Granted, just the fact that we are alive and living on this extraordinary planet feels like a miracle and all the beauty around us reminds us of God and his miraculous power, but these things can be explained. What I'm talking about are those exceptional events that cannot be explained.

Six years ago my family came face to face with what looked like a tragedy (and in some ways it was and is), but foremost it was a miracle.  My grandson Ezra, who was eleven years old at the time, was at a friend's house and he was riding a side-by-side ATV when the vehicle tipped over. Ezra did not have a helmet on and was not wearing a safety belt so when the ATV went over he was thrown out and the four-by-four came down on his head and neck, 1200 pounds cut into his skull and ground his face into the rocks.

Ezra remembers coming out of unconsciousness and realizing he was trapped. It was a horrific moment. He could hear the engine running and smell the odor of gasoline. He feared the vehicle might explode. He could see a nearby highway and prayed that someone would see him. His friend ran for help and soon sirens were wailing and emergency crews arrived, along with an ambulance.

It took special equipment to cut Ezra free, but when he was loaded into an ambulance and then headed for the hospital he was alive. Some who watched prayed. 

I heard from many of the emergency crew and the doctors who cared for Ezra that night - none of them could explain how he had survived. But Ezra knew. He told me later that it was God who had saved him. 

Ezra was life-flighted by plane to Portland where he underwent emergency surgery, the first of many surgeries, which included a craniotomy to relieve pressure on his brain, repair deep lacerations to his face and skull, a partially dismembered ear, a jaw broken in two places, and an injured cervical spine.



He was a mess and in terrible pain. But we were so thankful that he was alive! 

Here are a few photos taken after the initial surgery just to give you an idea of his condition. I will spare you those taken before.

The doctors did their jobs well and saved his life. We and so many others prayed. God was with us and with Ezra through the ordeal and all the days, weeks and months following. 

As Ezra healed it became apparent that he had sustained injuries to his brain. His face and skull could be mostly repaired, but the interior damage was going to be a more difficult matter. Ezra had a traumatic brain injury. It has changed the course of his life, and he has had to battle to move forward. But he's a fighter and hasn't conceded. He knows God has a plan.

Here is our miracle kid today. He is now seventeen and a senior in high school. He's beautiful on the inside and out. He has a lot of life ahead of him. It's not going to be easy. The accident left him with life-long deficits, but he's facing the challenge courageously. I have no doubt that God will use his life to enrich others. 

When I think about all that has happened and all that is still to come I am reminded of these verses. 

Ephesians 3:20  Now glory be to God! By his mighty power at work within us, he is able to accomplish infinitely more than we would ever dare to ask or hope.


2nd Corinthians 12:9  Each time he said, "My gracious favor is all you need. My power works best in your weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses."


On that awful day, when I was called to the ER, I was afraid and a weight of hopelessness lay over me like a heavy mantle. But God had not left me or my family alone. On that day when we prayed for a miracle, God was merciful. We all are exceedingly thankful.

It is good to be reminded of God's goodness, but to also remember that God is sovereign. We can't know when or if a miracle will happen when we cry out for one, but we can be assured that God will always do what is best. And that we can be assured that he will be with us and uphold us with his mighty power and love.

Grace and peace to you from God,

Bonnie

We Are A Miracle

Don't you love it when God does the spectacular and unexpected? 









My husband, Greg, and I celebrated our 47th wedding anniversary on August 14. It was a special day, just the two of us. 

We made a day trip to the coast where we ate fish and chips, watched boats come and go, took in the fabulous views, smelled the salty fragrance of the sea, listened to the deep-throated sound of a fog horn and reminisced about the days when we frolicked in the waves and played with our children on sandy beaches. We also remembered what a miracle we are. 

   

We've shared many precious days as well as some truly terrifying ones. We've held one another in love and we've held on to each other for dear life. We've laughed and cried. Welcomed children and said farewell to them. And here we are still ... together.

It didn't begin well. In 1971 we stood before family and friends ... and God, and pledged to love one another for the rest of our days. I doubt anyone knew that as I walked down the aisle that day I was thinking, "If it doesn't work out we can get a divorce." I wasn't committed. I was scared, and for good reason. God wasn't a part of our lives.

 Greg and I  met in 1969 and we fell hard for each other. Only months later he was shipped overseas to the coast of Viet Nam. He was away for 10 1/2 months, and in all that time we shared only one phone call, though lots of letters. There was no internet then. We were supposed to get married when he returned, but I wasn't sure about this man I'd only known face-to-face for a few months. I suggested we live together. He flatly refused and said we could be together married or not at all. I didn't want to lose him, hence my insecure walk down the aisle.

Our first months of marital bliss were anything but. We were both self-absorbed and skillful barb throwers. Four awful years ended in infidelity and separation. The divorce papers were ready. All we had to do was sign them.

But God was at work. His plans for Greg and I didn't include divorce. A friend shared the love of Christ with me, and I believed Jesus had paid the ultimate price for someone as unworthy as myself. 

Changes began.

I prayed for Greg and our marriage. Unbelievably the man who had stated he didn't love me and would never love me started showing up at my door. 

God was at work.

Only months later, Greg told me he loved me. He wanted to try again. I had known something was up, but Greg's pronouncement really took  me by surprise. I was scared, but promised to think about what he'd said and to pray about it. 

I knew God was in this with us and that he wasn't done with us. I returned home. Only two months later, Greg placed his life in Christ's hands.

From ruinous ashes we rose up ... together ... to begin again. It was all the Lord's work, not our own.  

We did our best to obey and stepped forward. 

We've had such an adventure since then. There have been surprises, mountain top experiences and deep shadowy valleys. We have shared love, joy, hope, hardships, sorrows and tears, and we are thankful for it all. We are no longer young, which brings its own special challenges and delights. We can't know what lies ahead, but we know where our strength comes from and we will stand together, trusting in The Father's plan.

Do you have a miracle story to tell? I hope you'll share.


Grace and peace to you from God.

The Journey - Waiting & Mercy

In my post on Wednesday I asked, what is your hardest wait. I received numerous responses from people who had truly lived through some very painful circumstances. It got me to thinking about one of my most difficult waits. I'd like to share that story with you.

     My four-year-old daughter, Kristi, snuggled close while I read Whinny the Pooh to her. All of a sudden, she covered the page with her hand and looked at me. I brushed a soft, blonde curl off her face. "What is it, Kristi?"
     "Mommy, I had a dream." She looked down at her hands. "It was a long, long time ago. In my dream I was dying. I was so scared."
     My throat tightened and memories of a frantic trip to the hospital three and a half years before filled my thoughts. I knew this was not a dream, but a little girl's memory.

     That day had started out like any other, but by late afternoon, my eight-month-old's early morning crankiness had shifted to a full-fledged tirade. Although she was running a fever I was convinced it was nothing more than teething and lay her down for a nap.
     A short forty-five minutes later, Kristi's moaning and whimpering drew me to her crib. She thrashed at the bedding. I picked her up and knew right away that she was very sick. Heat radiated through her clothing and her breathing was shallow and rapid. I took her temperature - 105 degrees! 
     "Lord, help us," I prayed as I called my husband at work. When he answered, I choked back a sob. "Greg, we've got to get Kristi to the hospital! She's really sick!"
     I'd never felt such fear for one of my children. For some reason, this time was different. 
     "Calm down," I told myself. "It's just a fever. Kristi's had fevers before." But my anxiety wouldn't be quieted.
     Dread hung in the air while I waited for my husband. Holding my daughter close, I paced the room, moving from window to window, hoping to see his car.
     When he pulled into the driveway, I raced outside to meet him. Clutching Kristi to my chest I slid onto the seat beside him. "We've got to hurry!"
     We headed toward town, and I wanted to believe Kristi was all right, but as the green hills flashed by, fear pierced my heart. "Lord, I pleaded, I've always believed you would protect my children. I can't bear to lose my baby. Please help her."
     The emergency room was packed with sick patients. Pressed for time, the doctor made a hurried diagnosis. "She has a sinus infection. We'll get her on an antibiotic, and she should feel better by tomorrow."
     Greg and I returned home, relieved and a little embarrassed by our unreasonable alarm. But as the hours passed Kristi grew worse and my apprehension returned. Could the doctor have been wrong?
     Throughout the night, Kristi moaned and whimpered. When her temperature dropped I whispered a prayer of thanks. I didn't recognize that her cold, clammy skin signaled a decline in her condition. She was in shock and I had no idea.
     When I tried to hold Kristi, she whimpered and pushed against me as if my touch was painful to her. It was a long night of tears and prayers. By morning Kristi was quiet, her eyes open but not responsive. Her cries had become pitiful and monotone.
     As daylight stretched its cool fingers across my living room floor I roused my husband and we set off for the doctor's office.
     The nurse peeked at Kristi and her face blanched. She snatched my daughter from me and hurried to the back offices in search of the doctor.
     Greg and I followed, knowing something was terribly wrong.
     The doctor examined Kristi, then turned to us, his expression somber. He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Kristi has an infection of the central nervous system-spinal meningitis."
     My legs went weak and my heart pounded erratically. I reached for my husband's hand and held on tight while the doctor explained Kristi was in a critical condition and needed to be hospitalized.
     I stepped into the hospital entrance and the odor of disinfectants burned my nose. A nurse met us and took Kristi from me. As she walked away I wondered if I'd ever see my little girl again alive.
     Greg and I filled out paper work, then waited in stiff-backed chairs, feeling invisible amid the impersonal antiseptic world of the hospital.
     After performing a spinal tap on our little girl the doctor's prognosis was correct - spinal meningitis. She was comatose, in shock and septicemic. She'd be treated with powerful antibiotics and other lifesaving procedures.
     The doctor's words echoed through my mind. "If she's still alive after 72 hours, she might make it. Right now . . . she's crashing and burning."
     I stood outside the viewing window of Kristi's room. She was so tiny and helpless. Her hands were tied to the slats on a metal crib, tubes protruded from her body and the muscles in her neck had pulled her head so far back that it laid against her back. I longed to hold her.
     A nurse stood beside me and rested a hand on my arm. "She can't feel anything," she said kindly.
     Sobs choked me. I had to get away. I ran down the corridor, pushed through the doors at the end of the hall and stumbled into a deserted playroom.
     Deep sobs wrenched themselves from me. Pain, unlike any I'd known, pierced my heart.
     "God, this is too much! I can't bear it! Please save my little girl."
     Quietly, my husband came up behind me and pulled me into his arms. I felt his strength. For a long while we held each other, without sharing a word. And then Greg said, "I know she's going to be all right. God loves her. He'll take care of her."
     Leaning on each other, we returned to Kristi's room. After donning gowns and masks, we went to her side, caressed her hands and asked God to touch our baby with his healing power. We also released her to His care.
     And then peace, beyond my ability to understand, replaced my fear. I knew God would do what was best. He was faithful.
     Kristi made it through that first day and night and the next.
     When we arrived at the hospital the third morning, Kristi's nurse greeted us with a big smile. "She's awake!"
     Joy bubbled up inside me and I ran to her room.
     I was finally allowed to hold Kristi, something I feared might never happen. Amid a tangle of tubes, the nurse gently placed my little girl in my arms. The sickly sweet odor of antibiotics assaulted my senses, but all I cared about was that my daughter was nestled against me.
     Convinced Kristi would live, death was taken off the list of possibilities, but there was another list, side effects - blindness, paralysis, cerebral palsy, epilepsy, mental retardation, water on the brain and others.
     In the days that followed, we watched and waited, seeking further signs of recovery - a smile, recognition in her eyes, a response to sound. 
     Doctors discovered Kristi was unable to use her left leg and there was weakness on her left side as well as lack of coordination. They suspected cerebral palsy. A CT Scan was scheduled, then postponed when she improved. Then postponed again and finally it was decided she didn't need one because she was doing so well.
     Fourteen days after being admitted, Kristi left the hospital. We were gong home - together!

     Kristi tugged on my sleeve and smiled brightly. "Jesus came and hugged me," she said, talking about her dream. "He held me in his lap and I wasn't afraid anymore."
     I looked down at my four-year-old bundle of energy and thanked God for her and for a Savior who always has time to hold his children. We didn't see Him there with her . . . and yet He'd been there.



Kristi's illness happened many years ago. Though the meningitis left her with some neurological challenges, she is happy and healthy with a family of her own these days. I'm so thankful for a God of mercy who still creates miracles every day.

Grace and peace to you from God,

Bonnie



     


     
     
     

Tips For Triumphant Living--Forgive One Another

August 14th, my husband and I celebrated our 37th anniversary. It’s almost too many years to imagine. Even more difficult to imagine is that at one time we weren’t going to make it at all. We’d separated and filed for divorce.

After four turbulent years Greg and I had decided being married to one another was not what we wanted. We’d committed unforgiveable offenses against each other. I was not an ideal wife, far from it. Proverbs 19:13 says, A foolish son is his father’s ruin, and a quarrelsome wife is like a constant dripping. I was a quarrelsome wife. And I let my husband down in untold ways. Greg was no piece of cake either. He had a foul temper and a wandering eye.

After discovering he’d been unfaithful, we split. Seemingly there was no way for us to succeed as a couple. We had destroyed the love we'd had when we first set out together. After months of tousling, all that was left to do was sign the divorce papers.

But God had another plan, a better plan. He meant to save our marriage. It began with Christ, and he asked us to forgive. During our separation I discovered Jesus and accepted Him as my savior. I was new person and began to pray for my marriage.

After months, we were miraculously reconciled. Greg came to know Christ and has been a man of God ever since. Only through the power of the Holy Spirit were we able to forgive each other. And God restored our love.

I sometimes think about what would have happened if Greg and I had been unwilling to listen to God and to obey Him. I’m sure I’d have no inkling even of where he was or what kind of life he had lived. But God was gracious and because of His love we are still together, and we are in love and looking forward to many more years together. It took a miracle, but here we are, still the two of us.

Is there something you think is unforgiveable? If so, think about all God has forgiven you. What would happen if He couldn’t forgive you? Where would we all be then?

Forgive one another, love one another and good things will come.

Grace and peace to you from God.

Bonnie