Everyday Miracles
Lora Armendariz
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Miracles Happen Everyday

God daily shows us how special we are and how much He loves us.  Join me as I write about how my life and the lives of other people who have been touched by God's grace.

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FACELESS

9/1/2013

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I pressed each number deliberately into the telephone and felt my stomach flip over nervously.  I hadn't even heard a voice yet.  There hadn't even been a connection and I was already so uncomfortable that I had decided to hate the next 5 min to an hour it would take to finish my business on the phone.

That poor person.  I listened to the menu options, pressed "1", listened, pressed "4", listened, then pressed "0"....operator please!  Now I was frustrated, uncomfortable, impatient, and still nervous.  So, when a tired voice trying to sound perky and helpful came on the line I had to reign in my negative thoughts. 

The operator listened to my problems and then re-directed my call to another helpful person who also redirected the call.  And I think, everyone reading this knows the song and dance.  Eventually I just hung up, tired of hearing them tell me they couldn't help.  I put my head in my hands and prayed.  "God, what's going on!  I need to fix this.  Please, help me."  Then an image popped into my head.  Suddenly those unhelpful voices had faces.  Tired faces.  Resolute faces.  They had hearts constantly pricked by the selfish insistence of others.  And, suddenly, my little Internet connection problem looked so tiny in comparison to the need for kindness. 

I picked up the phone again, asked God to help me communicate His love, and tried again.  This time when the tired-trying-to-sound-perky-and-helpful voice came online I talked to the operator with two thoughts reigning in my head:  1) This person is not responsible for my problems and is only here to help and 2) this person could use some kindness and love. 

I communicated my problem and asked respectfully for their help.  Even when they admitted to being the wrong person for the job, I thanked them sincerely for trying and also thanked them for reconnecting me.  Because I was patient and kind and most of all THANKFUL to these nameless people, one kind young man stopped and really listened to what I was saying.  He admitted that the problem with my Satellite Internet was unusual and that they didn't often deal with Satellite Internet users at all.  But he buckled down, worked through the system, and fixed it.  I could tell there was a smile in his voice by the end of the call.  He'd really helped someone.  Someone who hadn't yelled or been impatient and had been thankful. 

We talk to these nameless, voiceless strangers so often that sometimes we forget that there are always God's children on the other end of the line.  It is unfairly easy to be rude or uncaring towards them and yet it is so important that they know their worth.  That they know God's love even if it is only shown through our ability to have patience and to be thankful. 
That was a true lesson learned for me and I hope I always remember to show the person on the other end how much they are appreciated and cared for. 

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God's Road

4/23/2013

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        Vivian hated those long drives, but it was worth it to go visit her parents.  They had spent a good day together and as always, it had worn out their grandkids.  She wasn’t quite sure how they did it, but at the end of the day when it was time to pack up and leave, Ann and Tedd had got quietly into the back seat and passed out ten minutes down the road.  Vivian didn’t even turn on the radio, the silence was sweet and full of pleasant thoughts.  At the end of their two-hour trip would be their home and Vivian’s husband, ready to tuck everyone into bed. 

        The winter sky had darkened into a moonless blackness and her headlights tore into the night.   She took the on-ramp for the interstate.  She almost missed the man walking up the side, almost, but her as her eyes lit upon him an over-powering urge took her and she hit the brakes. 

        Really, God?  A hitchhiker?  This late at night?  I need to get home.  But it was too late now.  Her car slowed down right next to him and she heard her own voice, like a traitor, saying, “Do you need a ride, sir?”  The man didn’t even have the good grace to reply, he just opened the door and hopped in like he owned her little car.  Vivian bit her lip, suddenly feeling very cautious and mad at herself for stopping.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see the man.  His clothes were ragged and his hair unkempt and he was eying her two cherubs in the back with a decidedly disgusted expression.

        Something trembled inside her.  She could feel the malice reeking from him like an unpleasant stench.   God, really, why? 

        Because you asked me to.

        Vivian remembered then.  She had been feeling so very blessed that day, her life full of joy and happiness.  She had sent up a fervent prayer asking God to guide her into giving back some of that happiness. 

        She almost let out a groan, but instead took a deep breath and took a shot at some meaningless chatter.  “So, where are you headed, sir?”

        “Where are you going?” He shot back at her, not even a hint of politeness in his voice. 

          Vivian kept her eyes on the road and replied, “I can take you as far as Lakeview.”

        He didn’t answer.  Discontent filled the car like a smoke.  Had she done something to offend him?  Fear nudged at her and she kept telling herself to be calm.  God wouldn’t put her in a position of harm.  She was going to be fine, but that thought didn’t keep her eyes from darting to the back seat and gazing and the two children, deep in sleep, their cheeks flushed in pleasant warmth.    

        The man’s voice rasped out then, “You shouldn’t have picked me up.  You should know better, woman.”  He cursed.  A string of foul language coming forth that made her heart pound.

         Vivian heard the warning in his voice and the fear hit her veins like ice water.  It was a wonder she could even drive.  The one part of her that should be closed tight was answering the man then, her words ridiculously calm considering the turmoil she felt inside, “I knew you needed a ride and I had space for you.”

        He shook his head and glanced in the back seat again.  Why did he keep looking at her kids? 

        “You don’t understand.  You shouldn’t have picked me up.  Have to get somewhere.  I have to get there tonight.  I am going to do anything to get there.”

        “Where do you have to go?” Vivian asked, trying not to gag on the fear stuck in her throat. 

        He shrugged, “Does it matter to you?  I was going to take the next vehicle of whoever was stupid enough to pick me up and it was you.”  He turned squarely to her and rasped out angrily, “I could kill you.  I need this car so bad.”  Vivian’s heart seemed to stop and then he went on, “But those kids, I can’t do it with those kids.”

        She was going to cry.  Her mind ran wild through all the twisted things that seemed about to happen to her, to her kids, to her life.  Who was this man?  The silence that had not so long ago seemed so sweet now tortured her with its oppressive secrets. 

        She heard the vagabond let out a deep breath, like the air going out of a tire.  When he spoke again some of the wrath was missing, “I’m trying to get to my son.”

        “Is he sick?”

        He shook his head.  Vivian waited for him to continue, afraid another question might send him over a dangerous edge.  

        “I just told him I would come.  He needs me.  I haven’t seen him for awhile.” 

        That simple answer thawed some of the fear and Vivian softly stated, “Children are blessed when they have someone who cares.”

          It was those words that got Vivian’s passenger talking, really opening up to her and that two-hour ride became a life changing event.  Gerald Smith had lived life hard and the one thing he had that was truly good was his son.  Courts had decided he wasn’t fit to have custody of him when he was born, and Gerald admitted it had been a good choice.  Foster care had been better for that little tyke than life with a father constantly being imprisoned and never keeping a job.  But now that son was almost ten and had run into trouble and called his dad.  Gerald had been traveling for days and felt his time running short.  Rides were getting hard to find since Gerald looked dangerous.  He had been waiting hours before Vivian had pulled up next to him and had already decided that if he was going to reach his boy in time he needed to commit another crime. 

        Vivian listened, letting him pore it all out.  When he was done he said once again, “I think I would have done something really bad if you hadn’t had those kids with you.  Why did you pick me up?”

        She smiled and said, “God told me to.”

        He listened then as she told him of God’s grace and when they got to Lakeview she pulled into a truck station and asked him to wait in the car.  Gerald did.  Vivian didn’t have money to give the man, but she found a nice truck driver that was headed exactly where Gerald needed to go.  She got back to the car and told Gerald, “I enjoyed our trip, Gerald.  I’ll be praying for you. “

        There were tears on that rough man’s face when he got out and said, “I’m so glad it was you that picked me up.”
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Baby on Board

4/20/2013

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Oh, God, please be with us.  Just, oh, if I can ask it, let Mary sleep peacefully and if I need help, let there be some sweet grandmotherly sort that doesn’t mind.  Please, please.   The sixteen hour flight stretched before me like a mad nightmare.  I knew it would be bad.  Mary didn’t sleep well unless she was in her cradle and made her dislikes known with loud screaming cries.  There was no way this was going to be easy.  Perhaps God would just blot it all from my memory afterwards and I would never, ever, lay eyes on a single one of my fellow passengers ever again.  Ha!  Fat chance!

I stopped at a Fudruckers before going to my gate.  I had hours to kill since the International flights left late in the evening.  Besides, it would be easier to feed Mary now in a high chair than later in a tiny seat on a bumpy flight.  Perhaps if I timed everything just right she would magically fall asleep the whole sixteen hours while I enjoyed snacks and watched movies. 

Great, I am now panicked into ridiculous optimism of which I will soon have crushed into smithereens.  Remember, Lora, SIXTEEN HOURS.  I gave Mary a look and settled her into a high chair as I opened up her yogurt. 

The yogurt was devoured and my onion rings nibbled at, my stomach too nervous to comply with eating, and we headed to the gate.  My shoulders were already aching from the massive back pack, the diaper bag, and the baby carrier that had Mary strapped over my chest and belly.  It was nice to be shuffled on the plane first, apparently the only crazy woman traveling with a baby for this flight.

I got on my battle-face as I took my seat.  It was time to execute the first part of my plan—organize baby stuff for flight, store excess baggage, arrange baby in carrier for take-off.  I got it all done and then a flight attendant comes by with a helpful-sweet smile and starts in on me, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the baby needs to be out of the carrier for take-off.  OH, and are those your bags?  Everything must be stowed in the overhead compartments, including the carrier.  And, when you are ready I will give you proper instructions on how to use a baby seat-belt for this flight.”  She turned and left and I tried not to call her names in my head.  After all, she was just doing her job and she hadn’t been rude.  I would have just preferred, obviously, to have been left alone to do it all my way. 

And then I heard her, a fellow passenger.  “Sweetheart, let me help you.”  She must have been about my mom’s age with sassy pepper-gray hair cut short around her face, bright green eyes, and a soft smile.  Before I could say, “Bob’s your uncle.” She had all my bags and the darn carrier stowed away.  I didn’t get to talk to her more though because the flight attendant was back and giving me a thorough lecture regarding  the baby seat belt, the changing tables in the bathrooms, and the other various baby rules.  By the time she was done Mary had worked herself into a storm.  It was time for her nightly nursing, she knew it and she wanted it NOW. 

The plane was in flight just about the time that Mary finished her feeding and to my greatest disbelief, fell asleep like a rock.  I was able to slide her into her bassinet, strap the safety net in place, and sit back in my seat as a liberated woman. 

I reveled in the freedom and the quiet.  I marveled at my good fortune as me and everyone around me took in their in-flight movie and meal in peace and I thanked God.

That’s when I remembered her.  She was sitting across the aisle and her eyes were still on my sleeping angel.  She wasn’t watching a movie like everyone else.  When she caught me staring she extended a hand and said, “Hi, I’m Sandy.  You have a beautiful baby.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a laugh.  “I agree with you.”

“Well, if you need any help, you just let me know.”

I nodded and she turned back to her meal.  Five minutes later I saw another woman with white curls close to her head and two sapphire earrings bobbing around her neck.  She wasn’t headed back to her seat.  She was headed straight for me.  When she reached me she said, “Now if you have any trouble, I’m a pro at putting babies to sleep.  I’ve got 10 grandkids.”

And another woman came while I was putting away my meal.  “You can call me Sally.  I’m right down in row 62 and you come get me if you need anything.”

Another woman smiled and offered to help when I got up to use the bathroom and yet another when I was returning to my seat.  God, do I look that worn out and pathetic?  It was only then that I stopped and really looked at my fellow passengers.  Except for a teenage boy and a young couple near the front, they all appeared to be in their fifties and sixties.  I turned to Sandy, my neighbor, and asked her quietly, “Where are you headed?”

Sandy replied, “Well, I heard that most of our group is headed to meet up with a cruise in Sydney.” 

“And you?”

“I’m going to meet my new granddaughter.”

I wanted to cry.  God hadn’t just heard my frantic prayers; he had answered them in abundance.  I was literally surrounded by sweet grandmotherly and grandfatherly sorts.  Mary slept like an angel and then when morning came she laughed and entertained us all until we landed.  When my husband found me in the crowd and took his little family in his arms he asked, “How was your flight?”

I could only reply with teary eyes as I waved goodbye to Sandy, “It was a miracle.”

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    Lora is a Christian writer, wife, and mother who travels the world with her husband, living and working on ranches.

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