Our Relief Society lesson last week
was taken from Shayne Bowen’s talk on miracles, angels and priesthood (here). The same talk was used for one of the talks
given during sacrament meeting. An inactive member made the comment that she
was meant to be there that day as the message was given twice. It was a good lesson and I reflected on
miracles past and present. Miracles happen
every day. Some are obviously more powerful than others.
When Jaime was still a baby Richard
and I had been called as ward missionaries.
Primary baptisms were done at a stake level, but if for some reason only
one ward had youth being baptized when the head position was out of town, the
ward missionaries were asked to fill the font.
The font took roughly two hours to fill.
One Saturday I had forgotten my
assignment of filling the font – which normally I did as Richard always seemed
to be working. I don’t even know who
called to ask if I had the keys to the stake center. When I arrived there were about forty or so
people waiting outside and I was crying.
The font filled quicker than it had ever done – I’m sure due to the
prayers of those who had stood around waiting.
That was a miracle.
About six months before my mom
passed I had taken the car into a transmission place. I paid for a diagnosis test and learned that fix
the damage would be roughly 6,000 dollars.
We did not have that much income or credit. Fixing the car wasn’t going to happen – and
yet I needed something to drive. I prayed over that car more times than I care
to admit – before driving Jaime to school, before driving out to see my mom . .
. you get the gist. It was the car I drove as Richard used the Saturn.
Four days after my mom’s funeral I took
the Saturn as it was behind. I knew that
Richard had an appointment to take my oldest son to inquire about another
car. I was visiting with my
sister-in-law when I received a phone call about the other car – the one I had
prayed over each time I left the house or wherever I was at. The car was dead. No big surprise to my ears. I left my brother’s house and returned home.
The following day my eldest son
pushed the car to the transmission place around the corner. Now, in Utah (in my experience with most
dealers in Salt Lake) once you have paid the fee the history of the car is wiped
out from the files of the dealer (mechanic, whatever) but in this case the guy
not only remembered me but was able to look the diagnostic up. He asked me how long it had been since I had
replaced the fuel pump. I didn’t even
know what he was talking about. I told
him that I hadn’t replaced anything or did any kind of work since the diagnosis
six months earlier.
His
jaw seemed to drop to the counter as he unbelievably asked, “How have you been
driving around all this time?”
“Prayer”
Recently
Richard and I went and saw “Unsung Hero”.
It is a remarkable story full of miracles. The filming also consisted of
just as many miracles as explained here. So awe inspiring. All of it.
Miracles
take place each time I drive or walk out the door and don’t fall as I cross my
yard. Plant life is a miracle. Cooled down weather is a miracle. Thoughts shared on facebook that I may read
at just the right time. A loaf of baked
bread.
I
am grateful for all the miracles large and small.
