Night Walks and Miracles

While I walked a couple of nights ago, the sun was just going down, or had, and a group of dear neighbor gathered.  They sat together on one of the  porches on a beautiful evening and as I heard their voices,  happily telling stories, I instantly smiled.   Then I heard the voice of one special neighbor, who had  recently returned from a long stint at the hospital.  I hadn’t heard his deep voice in too long, and I smiled too.  I turned to see the figures  gathered under the glow of light on the small front porch,  spilling out onto the walkway.  His back was to me and he was telling a story.  In the next sentence or two,  he got to the punchline, and everyone laughed and smiled.  I smiled again, too. 

The second neighbor had been in the hospital too, though not nearly as long, and here they were, laughing and spending time together on a beautiful summer evening.   

“What a miracle,” I thought to myself.   One of the everyday kind of miracles it’s kind of harder to notice until it’s almost not so anymore. 

The next night I was walking, again.  This time when I passed my deep voiced  neighbor’s house, I saw he was sitting with his wife on the front porch.  

I tossed a greeting out, loud enough to be heard from a distance.  “It’s so good to see you!” I practically shouted.  I smiled big enough for him to see. 

He smiled too,  and said something to the affect of “It sure is good to be seen.”

His wife joined in, and a conversation started, one that ended up lasting a rather long time, by casual walking-by-in-the-evening standards, especially. 

They told me about his hospital stay, and following nursing home stint. He has cancer in the spine, and things got really bad for a while.  Then they told me about his return to the hospital, for a second surprise issue.  

At one point early in our conversation, he looked me in the eye, pointed his finger at me, and with clearer eyes and a brighter countenance than I’ve seen in so long, he said, “Those prayers you prayed for me worked, Courtney.  I heard you were.  They worked.” 

I got chills. In fact, I do again, just remembering. 

I had some surprise tears escape the corners of my eyes.  My heart unexpectedly overflowed.  He repeated his stance a few times.  And at one point, with a decided, settled, and grateful look in his eye he said, “It really was a miracle.”

Just the night before I called it a simple miracle.  

Tonight his kind, pointed finger connected some dots.  And I realized that I got to be a very small part of it, through nothing of my own merit.  For remembering, alone,  that God is loving and listening and powerful, and  for asking Him to help a friend. 

I remember telling him I’d pray for him, before he landed in the hospital.  And I meant it.  I felt a bit shy in my delivery ( I mean he’s my neighbor and everything.) But in my spirit I felt so bold, and  so convinced in my soul that God could heal him, touch him, and ease his pain, to whatever degree He saw fit.  Regardless of what it would look like, I knew God could help him.  And I was going to pray exactly for that.  Whatever it could look like.  That God would make it better. 

At another  point, when he was in the hospital, I saw his wife as she walked the dog, and another while she took out the trash.  I checked in , asked her if she needed any help.  She really didn’t need any, not in a practical way at least.  She was surrounded by kids and more grown grandkids, who helped daily, and neighbors that mowed her lawn (the same neighbor who ended up in the hospital as well, actually.) 

She didn’t need any practical help.  But I told her I would pray. That I was praying already (in fact I was mid way through praying for him when I bumped into her.)  I told her I would continue and please send my well wishes to her husband. 

Some weeks went by and I didn’t know what was happening.  But I still mentioned him in prayer anytime I thought of him. 

Now here we were, reconnecting, sharing stories of healing and hospitals, pain and pills.  And ultimately, of what the patient recognized as Gods mighty hand helping him through it all. 

A miracle. 

Some might scoff, credit the doctors and nurses, alone, say healing without them is some kind of fairytale.  They do so deserve credit and special mention. 

But truthfully, God deserves more.  He gave them the special talents, He created the body to heal, and He allowed things to work together.  they said some of the care they received  was better than others, mistakes were made, and his wife had to be a pretty vocal advocate.  

At the end of the ordeal, for them, God stood out. Gracious, listening, and helping. 

I can agree with that assessment, for I have seen it in my life too.  He uses any means necessary, but at the end of the day, every good gift comes from above, even if He has to use imperfect human messengers to get it there. 

Why do I tell you this story? 

To remind you,  you might be one of those imperfect messengers too.  You might be a nurse or a doctor, grandchild that calls and  checks on their grandparents, someone who cuts a lawn.  Or you might be just a walking and praying neighbor, like me. 

You have a part to play in some miracle, somewhere. 

Keep your eyes open as you go. Look for those miracles. See where you can help, maybe even be a part of one.

And always, pray.   Pray more than you think you need to.   Pray bigger than you feel capable of asking for.  (It’s not about that anyway.) Pray bigger than you think can happen.  Pray for miracles.  

Because God has a part to play, too. He’s just waiting for an invitation.  He’s waiting for someone to ask.  

That someone might be you.  

I left that day with new marching orders, new things, next miracles to pray for. And you better believe I will.  

Because there He is, this Jesus.  Just waiting to come to your everyday ordinary.  To show up on porches and at hospital beds and on your evening walks.  And He always brings with Him exactly what we need. Himself. 

And the miracles, too.  Peace. Healing. Love. Just like the wedding of Cana. He can’t help it.  It’s the really true nature of Love- the ability to heal what ills us. 

And Here we are.  Ready and ripe for such miracles.  What a perfect combination.