Pieces of Miracles

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One must always hope, says Demetrios.

“Well, I do hope, but not much,” said I, “for fear of being disappointed later.”

“No, no, cast out fear, because fear is from the devil, and hope bravely! Ask God for a miracle! Tell Him what you want!”

“God already knows what I want,” said I, sobbing.

“By that rationale, we would never pray for anything. No, you still have to tell Him.”

“I know you and others already have been asking Him for a miracle, and we don’t see one so far. And who knows why He grants some people miracles and not others?”

“But remember, Jesus taught us to persist in prayer. Never stop!”

About that, he’s right.

Today, when Wendy and I told our sister Barbara, “We are praying for a miracle,” her reply was, “And we’re getting miracles, one piece at a time.”

True.

She has gotten over her staph infection, even without the benefit of a functioning immune system. Today the antibiotics were discontinued. We still have to wear gowns and gloves to enter her room, and now masks, but that is to protect her – from flu, now that the season has officially begun.

Some small bit of feeling has returned to both her hands, as well.

Barbara says she no longer feels like she is “in the pit of despair.”

Mom has been home from the hospital two days now and seems fine. She is on precautions (a.k.a. aspirin) against further strokes.

This afternoon when we walked over to Dad’s building to visit him, he greeted me by name. He hasn’t been able to say anybody’s name but Mom’s for months. Later on, he even asked where Mike was (my brother).

We were singing Christmas carols again, with the Alzheimer’s patients, and most of the time he couldn’t remember most of the words, but for one brief verse of one carol, he was actually singing harmony. He used to sing bass in his church’s choir.

Two nights ago, in my dreams, I was sitting in a green mountain meadow when Barbara appeared on the scene. I stared at her, incredulously.

“You can walk!” I gasped.

She smiled and said, “And I can run! Watch this!” She began running and I began running after her, over the hill, which gave sight to an incredible Alpine vista. We ran and ran, waving our arms and dancing like Julie Andrews in the opening scenes of The Sound of Music. Then I awoke and an inaudible voice in my brain said, “Not yet. It’s too soon.”

Mom says it was wishful thinking. Demetrios says I mustn’t think it is ever too soon for a miracle. Mom may be right. Demetrios is wrong. Sometimes it is too soon. Jesus didn’t raise Lazarus until he had been dead long enough to erase any doubt.

If God miraculously cured you of typhoid the first time you coughed, you would never know what a great deed had been done for you.

Makes a person wonder how many things like that God has done, without our ever having any clue.