Miracles and Coincidence

I don't believe in coincidence. I used to, but that time has passed. Isn't it funny how time and specific situations can forever alter your perspective? What some call coincidence, I choose to believe is God using specific people, specific incidents, and specific timing all to achieve His greater purpose.

Example: I worked for a dear lady who has become a close friend. She witnessed the aftermath of my divorce, and knew what my hopes were for the future. She left the company we worked at, and later recommended me for a position at the company she went to. After I accepted that position, she left again (I was starting to take it personally) to work for a man that she kept insisting I meet. She pestered and cajoled, not just me, but him as well. After continuously declining, she was 'casually' mentioning that he was picking up his son for weekend visitation, and that he was also picking up his ex-wife's son from her first marriage. He had raised that child since he was two, and was maintaining visits with him as well as his biological son. Having my own children from my first marriage, that piqued my interest. At the same time, she shared something with him about me that caught his attention. We agreed to meet... and were engaged 9 months later. It could be seen as a series of coincidences, just happenstance. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God set those plans in motion.

We had some difficult decisions to make over the last year or so. There were financial limitations to some of these decisions, but after much prayer, we had to step out on faith and spend money we didn't really have. I'm talking about several thousand dollars. After much prayer and angst, we pulled money out that was earmarked for something else. Within the week, I opened a junk drawer in the kitchen that I am literally in ten times a day. I came across an envelope from our insurance company that I assumed was something we'd already dealt with electronically. I opened it to confirm, and a check for almost the same amount we'd pulled out was inside. It was over a year old, and had to be reissued from the insurance company. It was taken care of within that same week. Again... several thousand dollars. Overlooked? I don't think so. It's not like we live in a fashion that we can just not need several thousand dollars of expected income. God knew when we'd need it, what we'd need it for, and He provided.

Still not buying it? Try this on for size. My husband had a severe spinal cord injury almost two years ago. He was told he'd likely never walk again. If he did walk again, it would be 6 months before he would be able to take even 1 step. It would be exhausting, and he'd only be able to take two or three steps and then have to sleep for hours just to recuperate. At the most, he'd maybe be able to recover maybe by 80%. He would always have pain, he would always have muscle tone and spasticity, he would always need bowel care and catheters. The list goes on and on. He took his first steps 1 month and 4 days after the accident. Instead of walking a couple of steps, he walked 11 feet. He hasn't had a catheter in over a year, and his bowels require no additional care most of the time. Miracles have abounded throughout this journey.

In that vein, here's another 'coincidence' for you. We have a dear friend that we got to know better during Bob's initial recovery. She and her sweet husband helped us tremendously. They followed our story, they prayed over us, they even did our laundry, and managed some very personal care for Bob while I had to be away. Somewhere along the way, they made friends with a couple in Florida. I don't know their whole story, but I don't believe they share our faith. A couple of weeks ago, their son had a diving accident in Miami, and suffered a spinal cord injury. He's at the beginning of this journey, and from personal experience, I can tell you it's a scary road. Doctors aren't always people of faith. Typically the opposite, as they breathe science day in and day out. The spinal cord and brain are so crazy complicated, that even the specialists will tell you that they never know exactly what to expect. We have experienced more than once the condescending pat on the head when explaining that we have experienced new functionality after intense bouts of nerve pain. When we tell them symptoms we believe are healing, they let us know that it is likely symptoms of a plateau in recovery. They don't always offer hope. Contrarily, they are trained to prepare you for the worst. Because our friend has seen my husband's healing process, she has been able to relate example after example of positive results from devastating circumstances. Is it a coincidence that she began a relationship with this woman when she did? Is it just by chance that she's been able to offer hope, share her faith and love on this family? I don't believe it is.

Over the last couple of months, my husband has had some nearly unbearable pain. He has struggled with functionality, and that can be disheartening. We were able to remove one medication that has turned that around, for the most part. Still, he's had horrible arm pain on his weak side. (His injury impacted his right side more than his left). Last night, he came home and said that there was a wave of electricity that was washing over that right arm. It was painful, traveling down from underneath his shoulder and into his fingers connected to the ulnar nerve. He was excited, knowing that new abilities may be around the corner. I can assure you that his physiatrist would look at us while shaking his head and patting our hands. He would tell us that we could believe whatever we need to in order to get through this. An hour later, my husband pinched me hard with his right hand. The hand that he could barely grip with a day ago, snatched ahold of my arm with some vigor.

God is in every detail. He performs miracles every day. You can choose to see them for what they are, or you can choose to call it coincidence. Personally, I think it takes more faith to believe in coincidence than in Him. What about you?

Starting Over... Again

I have been entranced by the written word since I was a little thing. Perhaps I narrow it down too much when I say 'written word'... my family would certainly tell you I have a penchant for words in general. I'm full of them (and it, if you ask certain people). They come surging out of me when they would best be served by loitering around in the depths of my scattered brain, never to be seen by the light of day. They are rarely gentle, they are most certainly loud, and just because they don't land on a page somewhere, they are always present.

My grandmother wrote her entire life story in a Holly Hobbie spiral notebook. She let me read it when I was about eight years old, and I would swallow it whole on almost every visit to her home. She had such vivid memories, and could paint a picture so clearly in your mind that you felt like you could step right into the pages and witness it firsthand. One of my favorite stories she told in that notebook was about an altercation she had with her oldest sister while washing dishes. I don't remember all the intricacies of the argument, just that it ended with my grandma hitting my great-aunt Sis in the back and knocking the wind clean out of her. I laughed until I cried, the whole while my grandmother stared at me with her eyebrows knotted up. She never understood why I thought it was so funny, and I could never catch my breath long enough to tell her. In my eight year old mind, I couldn't picture my grandma as a young girl. She was always my rather heavy, white-haired, dentured, well... grandma. Aunt Sis was always the skinny, older sister of my grandma who liked things her way or no way. That was, at least, my perception of her back then. In my mind's eye, it was my aged grandma decking my even older aunt after a dispute playing Pitch. Maybe I'm still the only one who can find the absurdity in it, because I get the giggles even thinking about it now. Granted, my sense of humor is a little twisty, but I like it that way.

I was already a bookworm. My grandpa consistently commented about the fact that I "always had my nose in a book." He wasn't complimentary when he said it, either. Education wasn't a priority to him. To the contrary, it was just an example of laziness. If you weren't working with your hands and breaking a sweat, then you weren't working. I should have been quietly doing some sort of household chore. Quietly, because 'little girls are meant to be seen and not heard." What a conundrum for a child who had all manner of words schmooshing around in there!

I've periodically blogged, journaled, or written small stories. I am frequently interrupted, and sometimes without muse. Life carries me off, and my ADD squirrel-seeking mind becomes too easily distracted to finish a thought. Now that middle-age has hit me like a semi, *bite your tongue!* sometimes I can't even remember the word I was trying to use. Even a simple word like car, dog, or spoon can escape me despite my best efforts to recover it.

For some reason, I am burdened to begin again. Perhaps this time, I'll keep going. Maybe I could even say something of great relevance or importance. You don't know. It could be sheer genius. It could be drivel. We will just have to see, won't we?