Miracles by Design

Okay – so I’m human. Although I’ve accepted the fact that I can’t purchase my own home yet and have to rent again, I’m  ticked off about having to move. If I could see purpose in this move beyond my landlord needing the space for his newly-acquired family, I wouldn’t have a problem. If I knew for sure that God had a purpose, I’d be totally on side. However, from my present perspective, all I see is the huge job of moving, the confusion of changing my address and contact info, and a monumental interruption to my work. I am unhappy about losing my hill (my place for prayer and meditation), having to store the lawn furniture my sons made and having to move to a different (although nearby) town.

So – it was in that frame of mind that I decided last night not to go to Bible study at the Embassy this morning. I would stay home and work instead.

However, when morning came, I awoke earlier than planned and I knew that I was to go to Bible study. Margie was teaching a very simple subject – “God is Good, Satan is Bad.” I wasn’t too sure how much I would learn from something so basic, but I was about to find out!

Margie asked us to turn to Nahum 1:7, “He cares for those who trust Him.” Pretty basic stuff, but as I thought about those words, the reassurance of God’s presence, even in these circumstances, was profound. I do trust Him – so He will care for me, even though I may feel as though I’m being sent out on a limb by myself.

Margie went on to say that the darkest place in a person’s life can be their greatest time of promotion. God doesn’t usually share His plans with us. We just have to trust that He is leading if we’re seeking His path.

Then Margie asked us to turn to Psalm 84:5–7. When I went to find Psalms, my Bible flipped open right to that passage! How does that happen in a book with 2172 pages??????

As I read the words, I knew God was speaking directly to me about the journey I’m on. “Blessed are those whose strength is in You, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage. As they pass through the valley of weeping, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength till each appears before God in Zion.”

My strength is in Him. Even though I may get down and depressed about it, this move can be a place of refreshing and joy as I give it to God for His working. God will not abandon me. He is taking me from a season of weeping to a new place of refreshing. I need to leave my grumbly thoughts behind and walk forward with praise to God and gratitude for His wonderful provision. The house I will be renting is lovely. Lola is welcome and the owner is being very kind to me. I shall look ahead with joy. I shall not risk looking back and being turned into a pillar of salt!

It is truly miraculous how God can take words written over 2000 years ago and apply them freshly to my life today! Thank you Lord!! 🙂

My youngest son, Todd, and his wife Jenny recently welcomed their first child – Noah Tennyson Chaytor-Lee – a beautiful name for a beautiful child. If there could be a perfect entry into the world, that would be the birth story of little Noah.

Not so with his father! Three months into my 1973 pregnancy with Todd, we moved to Montreal. Because my then-husband was already working there, it was up to me to pack up our Ontario home and move the family. Boxes had to be packed, heavy things had to be lifted and I did what I had to do, all the while looking after my active, eldest son. On top of the physical stress, there was tremendous emotional stress in our marriage.

At five months pregnant (now living in Montreal and away from family support) I went into labor. While the pains eventually subsided, my doctor feared that there had been a separation of the placenta. He warned us that if the child made it through the pregnancy, it would probably have severe disabilities and that we should begin thinking about institutions for his care.

In the seventies, there was little understanding of the effect of nicotine or alcohol on a developing fetus. At the time, I was not a Christian and was smoking a couple of packs of cigarettes every day. To make matters worse, the obstetrician’s directions included four months of bed rest, during which time I was supposed to have a drink of alcohol whenever I felt any twinges of labor pains. The result was that I stayed half cut on Cointreau for the last four months of the pregnancy, sitting in bed doing jigsaw puzzles, chain smoking and eating my way up to 200 pounds! If the baby hadn’t been disabled at the beginning of the pregnancy, one would certainly think that I was ensuring disaster!

However, my mother and others were praying. My mom did a lot of praying in those years!

Nine months finally passed and the real deal labor began. However, with no exercise for four months, I was totally out of shape and had no muscles. Thirty-two and a half hours later, my beautiful little red-headed boy was born, perfect in every way except that his head was so big that the doctor did tests for hydrocephaly. It turned out that his head was so big simply because of all the brain power locked inside! (And maybe because he[‘s so gorgeous!)

Long story short, God answered Mom’s prayers. Todd was an Ontario Scholar in high school, developed a wonderful personality and went on to McMaster University where he excelled in everything he did, earning honours degrees in both natural sciences and computer sciences. He now develops software for medical devices in Waterloo, the Silicon Valley of Canada.

Todd has always been a very special gift to me, a son of whom I am very proud and a constant friend all through the years. A true miracle – by God’s design. Thank you Mom, for your prayers.

The material I had to work with for my first book with Rev. Gordon Williams (Like a Rushing Mighty Wind) was so rich with stories of miracles that it was difficult to choose one for the introduction.

We settled on the story of a little girl with buck teeth who asked Jesus for a miracle and received one. The Preface began…

  “’Do you want to see what Jesus did for me?’
    I looked down at the eleven-year-old freckled face smiling broadly up into my own.  The face looked vaguely familiar, and I began to remember praying for the child in the previous night’s prayer line.
    And then it hit me.  This little girl’s top lip had protruded badly with very pronounced buck teeth — and here she was, just one night later, with perfectly aligned, beautiful teeth!
    ‘He fixed them,’ she announced with shy pride.”

When we asked David Mainse, then the host of 100 Huntley Street to write the Foreword for the book, he requested confirmation of the remarkable miracle. At Gordon’s direction, I wrote to Dr. Duvall, the little girl’s dentist, who was happy to comply. He replied, “I hereby verify the portion of Gordon Williams’ Preface to be correct regarding the changes in the girl’s dentition. You may use my name with this book if needed.”
 
Dr. Duvall went on to say that having witnessed the transformation in his young patient, he met with Gordon and shared that he, personally, had a bad back and had been in serious pain for many years.  Gordon suggested that the doctor should attend one of his meetings, and so he did — that night.  The doctor’s back was healed, and he has run the “Iron Man Marathon” every year since! 

Dr. Duval wrote,  “I have an interesting story for you.  During our lunch (with Gordon Williams) at the Old House Restaurant, I expressed my astonishment at faith healing. After considerable thought, I went ahead and asked Jesus for healing of my fifteen year lower back problem. That night, my back hurt like …. and after praying, there was no pain. The next morning, I arose from my bed carefully.  Again, no pain, although the lower back muscles were very tense.  Since I run 5–10 miles every day, I would come home hurting if I ran more than 1 hour per day.  I now run 25 miles with no pain, and I am entering a couple of marathon races.  Not only that, but I run relatively fast (for me).  How about that … me — a member of the health profession, being healed by prayer!”

How about that indeed? 🙂

With all the uncertainty of this move, I have felt as though my life is totally upside down. I have not been able to focus on my work and, with all my belongings packed in boxes, everything is in disarray.

In the midst of all of this, Jane-Anne invited me to her cottage for a couple of days and I accepted gladly – anything to escape the confusion. The thought of serenity beside a lake was most welcome.

What follows may not seem like a miracle, but the restoration that has taken place since my arrival yesterday is truly remarkable. This morning, I recorded my musings, sitting on the deck:

“Cottage air, finally filling my senses. Morning breeze against my cheek. Boat gunnel guards bobbing against dock wood. Leaves whispering. Waves lapping on wet rocks. Lola paws pattering across the wet deck.

Ruth (Jane-Anne’s mom) comes around the corner of the cottage and hangs a wet mat over the railing, a yellow jacket over the towel wrapping her lower body.

Reaching back in my mind, I find days of love, wrapped in the family that gave me life.

The breeze is familiar. The leaves whisper the same secrets of Creation they told at my childhood family cottage – the simple knowledge of the love of God.

I belong where I am  enfolded by nature, cedar droppings under my bare feet.

I can’t stay here. This is not my life – not my cottage… but the breeze is mine. The air that gives me breath is mine. The sounds live in my memories.

I am so grateful to find these things that are mine once again. To soak in the sounds, to rest in the breeze.”

My son Timothy has led a very adventurous life, for which I am sure God has had to commission a whole legion of angels for protection! Tim is now 40 and a Forensic Fire Investigation Engineer and I am very proud of him, but there have been more hills and valleys in his life than there are crossing the Rockies to reach him where he now resides in B.C. with his family.

When Tim was 12, he was visiting friends of our family on a farm. Their two-story farm house had a steep roof, over which was a tree branch where a mother bird had chosen to build her nest and raise her young. When the boys discovered one of the babies that had fallen out of the nest, hero Tim decided that he needed to return the little bird to its mother.

Carrying the baby in his pocket, he made his way up to the top of the roof, managed to reach the nest and tucked the little bird back in its home.

Then he started to make his way down the steep roof. Suddenly, he lost his grip and began to slide, faster and faster down the roof! He thought he’d be able to grab the eaves trough when he reached the edge – but that didn’t happen. His legs shot over the side of the roof and into the air! Amazingly, there was a clothesline strung about halfway between the stories. Tim’s legs shot between the upper and lower lines. Grabbing the top line as he whizzed through, he suddenly found himself sitting, swinging on the bottom line!

Just a crazy coincidence? I don’t think so. It was a miracle – by design. 🙂

People talk all the time about the “miracle of life.” It is very fresh in my heart with the arrival of Noah, my newest grandson, in March. There is no disputing the miracle of ten perfect little toes and ears that unfold like petals.

But how about the miracle of ten gnarled toes and ears that no longer hear as easily as they once did – when they leave this world?

My mom and I were very close. On the night she died at the age of 96, I was stroking her hair, lying on the bed beside her, singing an old hymn that I hadn’t heard for years, “Shall We Gather at the River.” I was surprised when Mom said, “Oh, I wish we could just jump across!”

“You mean jump across the river Mom?” I asked.

She said yes. I know that Mom had hung on to life because she knew I still needed her. My life and marriage were not happy. I tried to be everything for everybody and cherished Mom as my refuge from the world – the embodiment of everything fine, everything that made sense in the world, everything that understood and really loved me. But I knew it was time to let her go.

“Mom, would you like me to pray and ask Jesus to take you home to heaven?” I knew the words could no longer be delayed. Mom said yes.

As I prayed, Mom suddenly said, “Victor!” with surprise and great delight. And again, “Victor!”

I was puzzled and asked, “Mom – are you seeing Uncle Victor?”

Her words were weak, but filled with joy. “Yes!” She gently slipped away with the brother she loved and was gone within just a few short moments.

I sat beside her, my precious mom, feeling no sense of loss whatsoever. It was as though she had simply gone into another room and I would see her later. I wondered what I should do now. It occurred to me that I had not done her nails that day. I had meant to give her a manicure, but it simply had not happened. So – I got the nail file and polish and sat there and did her nails as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, I called the nurse to pronounce and the funeral home to remove her body.

When the nurse arrived, she asked if my mom had been a Christian. I assured her that she had, but inquired why she asked.

“Because she has such a peaceful expression.,” she said. “I see a lot of people at the time of death and almost invariably, the Christians have that same peaceful expression, while it’s much different with non-believers.”

After everyone left, I went up to my bedroom. It was two a.m. and I felt at loose ends. I wondered what people do when they’ve just lost someone so precious to them. I clicked on my TV and Nite Lite was just starting. The topic (no kidding) was “What do you do when you’ve just lost someone you love?” I couldn’t believe it! I had hosted that program for seven years, and so called in to tell the screener (who was a friend of mine) how incredibly timely the topic was for me. I told him about Uncle Victor coming to meet Mom and the nurse’s comment about the peaceful expression Christians have in death. He insisted that I go on air and tell the story and so there I was, at 2 a.m., telling the whole nation (or anyone who was up and tuned in) about my mom and the miracle of her death.

Despite the fact that I’ve missed Mom, I’ve never grieved for her. I’ll see her again – and what a joyful miracle that will be!!!!

A few years ago, I was sitting at dinner with friends at a writers’ conference (Write Canada!). They began to discuss the poetry contest which was to be judged later that night. I had forgotten to submit anything, but when it was announced that submissions would still be accepted until the end of dinner, I quickly grabbed a pen from my purse and began to scribble. The topic we had been given was, “Compare an Orange to a Sheep.” Can you imagine? What a crazy challenge!

I prayed that God would give me something and here is what developed in the space of about 10 minutes:

THE ORANGE AND THE SHEEP

“Baa,” said the little sheep,
Have you any soul?”
“No sir, no sir,
But God gave me a goal.”

“I,” said the juicy orange
Am not lowly as you think,
For in my triune being,
I am a God-man link!”

“My skin, my juice, my seed
Are three and yet I’m one,
A reminder in man’s need
Of Father, Spirit and the Son.”

“Baa,” said the little sheep,
“You think you are so rare;
Look at me – God chose me
To symbolize His care.”

From up above a voice broke through!
The orange and sheep stopped speaking.
“Stop arguing, you witless two
And hear what I am saying.”

“Though one is hard and one is soft,
Not unlike every man,
Each in your special, unique way
Reflects Creation’s plan!”

That night, there was a poetry challenge awards ceremony. When I say I won first prize, it’s not to blow my own horn. I was probably more shocked than anyone. It was just a silly little poetry contest.  My point in brushing the dust off of it tonight is just to share another example of God’s activity in our lives. I sincerely believe He gave me a gift of sudden inspiration that night – a little miracle for fun – by design!