"Miracles do happen."
Opening line of an email I received this morning. It was a correspondence from a wonderful friend who does a horrible job at writing. I am usually the initiator and he responds, but this time, this day, a miracle happened - and he wrote first. It was truly a gift to hear from him. I miss him so. If you don't really appreciate the use of the word "miracle" for this experience, then fine. I understand the need to keep the word pure. But this time, this day, I'm o.k. calling his note miraculous.
I guess the miraculous thing about it is that he was thinking about me. He's halfway around the world on a vision-quest of sorts. Much has and is going on in his life, his work, his marriage. There is much he has to sort through and wrestle with and figure out and talk over before he comes "home." So, for me to cross his mind and then for him to act on that prompting by writing a note? Miracle.
God's got a lot going on too. He's all over the world, and in it, and through it. Much is going on. Wars and rumors of wars. President Bush has got colon tests. The Harry Potter book is out. Missionaries held hostage over there. School'll be starting soon. My vision of God is not one of a nervous Nellie, though; wringing his eternal hands in anxiety over all that's to be done. I really believe he's in charge - pulling the wagon (E. Peterson). But in all of that, he's thinking about me. What is man (John) that you are mindful of him? It's a day that I feel very small in the scheme of things; humbled, if you will. But God has me on his mind. I've wondered lately if he remembered me. And he sees me. It's felt like his face has been hidden a little. And he knows. And he cares. He prompted me with that truth by way of a friend's email this morning. I'm not planning on walking on water today, but I'll leave the house shortly walking on air. The medium for the miracle concerns me not. Just that it happens. Today, this is my story, this is my song.