Loyola Press
3441 N. Ashland Ave.
Chicago, IL 60657
(800) 621-1008
www.loyolapress.com
2012 Joan Wester Anderson
Stories first appearing in In the Arms of Angels (Loyola Press, 2004): Heavenly Mission.
Stories first appearing in The Power of Miracles (Loyola Press, 2005): The Thanksgiving Angel, Heaven in Hazard, Blessings in a Bag.
Stories first appearing in Guardian Angels (Loyola Press, 2006): Allies Angel, Patricias Valentine, Shield Us, Oh Angels, Lost and Found.
Stories first appearing in Angels and Wonders (Loyola Press, 2008): Invisible Guardians, Always a Father, Wonder at the Well, Bending the Rules, Paying It Forward.
Stories first appearing in Where Miracles Happen (Loyola Press, 2009): Answer in the Wind, Protector in the Barn, Miracle at the Mall, A Measure of Gods Love, Miracles in Multiples.
Art credit: Kamira/Shutterstock
ePub ISBN 978-0-8294-3762-1
12 13 14 15 16 EPUB 5 4 3 2 1
S hortly after our family bought a house in Chicagos northwest suburbs, I met Lynne Gould. She appeared at our back door one morning, accompanied by several small sons, to welcome us to the neighborhood. I invited her in, but she took one look at the boxes marked FragileChina still stacked on my floors, andwith a glance at her kidsdeclined (which endeared her to me right away).
The Goulds lived directly behind us, our deep yards separated by a tall hedge with an opening in it, which we used as a gate. I loved all the neighbors, but Lynne was special. Immediately we sensed a bond and found ourselves cutting past surface chatter and delving more deeply into each others feelings and beliefs.
Few topics were out of bounds for us, but spirituality was a particular favorite. We discovered that, although we were both Catholic, our faith attitudes differed. Lynne seemed relaxed, confident in Gods tender care and his willingness to get personally involved in her daily life. Me? As one philosopher has said, the longest distance anyone travels is the twelve inches from the head to the heart. I tended to be dutiful, a bit scrupulous, and hard on myself. Although I had never thought of God as harsh or frightening, it was difficult to believe that his love for me was truly unconditional. As for miracles, they happened to saints, not ordinary people like me.
We had lived in our house for just a few weeks when autumn leaves began falling. Actually, they cascaded down, thickly covering our quarter acre. Dutifully, I collected lawn bags, and one afternoon when the children were in school, I went into the yard to rake.
The warm, sunlit day was delightful, but I made little headway. At the end of an hour, I had stuffed six bags, but there were several huge piles of leaves waiting, and half the yard remained untouched. Home ownership was losing its charm. I leaned on the rake for a moment, pushed the hair back from my eyesand the world seemed to stop. There were no rings on my left hand. My diamond engagement ring and wedding bandnot removed since our marriagewere gone.
Just then Lynne stepped through the hole in the hedge. Although she was at least fifty feet from me, she must have seen the shock on my face. Whats the matter? she called.
My ringstheyre missing! I could barely speak. I had lost a little weight during our move, and they must have slipped off somehow. But when? Where?
Lynne waded across the knee-high leaf drifts to me. When was the last time you saw them? she asked.
Frantically I searched my memory, examining the small, ordinary tasks Id done that day. Making breakfast for the children, loading the washing machinehow often we glance at our hands without really seeing them. But I was sure I would have noticed missing rings during earlier tasks. They must have fallen off out here, I told Lynne, surveying the landscape with a sinking heart. How could we find anything in all that debris? I would never see the rings again. And not only were they uninsured, but also they were loved and irreplaceable.
Tears filled my eyes. Lynne was more practical. Lets pray about it, she said, and she knelt right down in the middle of the leaves. And, because she had hold of my hand, so did I.
God, Lynne began without preamble, weve got a problem here. Briefly she outlined the situation.
Despite my agitation, I felt a little embarrassed. What if a neighbor looked out and saw us praying in public! But I was also fascinated. Lynne was talking to God with easy familiarity, as if he were her father right here and now, somebody who cared so much about her that he would be interested in anything she told him. Well, why not? I thought suddenly. Im a parent, and theres nothing my children could need that I wouldnt provide. If I was truly Gods child, wouldnt it work the same way?
Lynne was finishing her one-way discussion. We need a miracle, God, I heard her say. Please let us find the rings. She sat back on her heels, wordlessly surveying the yard. Not for a moment did I assume God would actually do anything about her request. But Lynne had been a dear friend to stand by.
As I watched, however, her eyes traveled across the orange and yellow piles. Slowly, she stood up and shuffled past several deep mounds. When she reached one on the other side of the yard, she stopped, bent over, plunged her hand about half-way into it, then straightened. Here they are, she said, looking into her palm. Here are your rings.
I probably screamed before I went running across to her. But there both rings were, unmistakably mine. We looked at each other, our faces wreathed in grins. How did you... ? I hardly knew what to ask.
She laughed. I didnt. God did it. I just kind of knew where to look.
But thats impossible
Not really, she pointed out. We asked for a miracle, didnt we?
Something great seemed to tremble in the air, something awesome and wondrous. Was this what it meant to trust? Like two little girls, we had approached our Father, placed a broken toy in his lap, and asked with complete assurance (at least on Lynnes part), Daddy, fix it.
Why should I have been surprised when God did exactly that?
According to a TIME magazine report on September 18, 2008:
More than half of all Americans believe they have been helped by a guardian angel in the course of their lives, according to a new poll by the Baylor University Institute for Studies of Religion. In a poll of 1700 respondents, 55% answered affirmatively to the statement, I was protected from harm by a guardian angel. The responses defied standard class and denominational assumptions about religious belief; the majority held up regardless of denomination, region or educationthough the figure was a little lower (37%) among respondents earning more than $150,000 a year.
Such events suggest that God exists and loves us, and that our lives have a purpose. But the finding of the rings in my backyard deepened my interest in the subject. What is a miracle? I wondered. How do we know when one happens?
According to Websters Unabridged Dictionary, Encyclopedic Edition