miracles [Hospital Reflections]

I opened my Bible this morning and pulled out a piece of folded-up paper. It had been in there for a while, but since I regularly tuck all sorts of notes and whatnot away in the pages I hadn't noticed or opened it in months.

Today I opened it. It was a copy of a before and after scan of my dad's heart from one of the many procedures he underwent during his long and trying stay in the hospital last fall.

The before photo shows arteries and blockages, one in particular so blocked that the vessels beyond it are no longer visible. The after shows that artery continue past the blockage. The quality of the photocopy is poor, but the evidence is clear. There was now blood flowing where once there was none.

I had already forgotten.

I remember sitting in the waiting area with my mom and brother, waiting on the surgeon to emerge with news. This wasn't the big surgery - a combination of three major procedures that Dad would need to survive - we had been waiting on; Dad was still too weak for that. But this was something. After weeks of waiting for a forward step and only feeling pushed back, we were finally getting something. They were doing a short procedure to temporarily open up one of the four blocked portions of his heart. It was a tiny step in the marathon of his healing and recovery, but it was a step.

The surgeon, a petite, middle-aged professional, sat down with us and showed us the pictures of Dad's heart. And there it was in front of us, a tangible something that we could hold, touch and feel that showed blood circulating in a part of my dad's heart which hours before was starved and dying. The vessels were alive, fulfilling their created purpose once again.

In a manner as matter-of-fact as me telling you what I ate for breakfast, the surgeon said, "I simply opened the artery." I SIMPLY OPENED THE ARTERY.

There was nothing simple about it. We needed a miracle that day. His "simple" was our miracle.

You and I may not face a life or death situation today - I pray that we don't - but we can open our eyes to the story that God is writing all around us. In our homes. In our offices. In our families. In our churches. In line at the grocery store, or in a rare moment of silence shared with nothing but a laptop or a pile of laundry. We can look for miracles in the simplicity.

The laughter of brothers playing.

The song of birds outside my window, unswayed by the long winter.

The warm coffee that sits on my table, a sign of provision and plenty.

The health of my body and the energy to care for my children.

The knowledge that my father's heart is beating, beating, beating.

: : : : : : : : : :

To Dad,

I've always loved you as my father. But now I also love you as our living, breathing miracle. I think of you every day, and I thank God for restoring your heart and restoring your life.

Also, if you ever scare us like that again, I'm becoming an Alabama football fan for life. I MEAN IT.

Love,
Your Daughter