Happiness is a Choice

Miracles Happen Every Day

I believe in the possibility of miracles. Indeed, I believe in the probability of miracles. Oh, Geez, I'll just go all the way out on that limb: I believe in miracles!

If there were no miracles how desperate and dull life would be. Faith and hope exist because there are miracles; considering how unlovable most of us are, love in and of itself is a miracle. Still, for the purpose of this story, I'm taking the position there is only the 'possibility' of miracles and the reader can decide if they occurred or if the events can be explained by facts, coincidence, or just dumb luck.

Miracles come in a variety of intensities: Sometimes, finding a parking space near the front door is a miracle; sometimes getting over that cold just before the job interview is a miracle; sometimes having the correct change at the tollbooth is a miracle; sometimes it's that 'the cancer is in remission' statement that marks the miracle. Miraculous happenings have been a part of my life from the beginning of my memory; this story touches on only three of them. The events I will share with you here are somewhere between the zero and ten on the imagined scale of miraculous.

God often chooses the usual to prove the unusual and such was the case on a rainy, Friday afternoon. Ten-lane Interstate 635, more commonly known as the LBJ Freeway, was constructed in the late 1960's and early 1970's as a loop around Dallas, Texas. I was driving alone, eight months into a third pregnancy and the freeway traffic was moving at about forty-five to fifty miles per hour. The Mesquite section near my home was one of the last to be completed and, even in April 1974, traffic rarely moved that quickly at non-peak hours, much less at four-thirty on Friday afternoon. Add the rain, and forty miles an hour was a minor miracle, but not my miracle.

My mind has a tendency to wander on its own, and it was even more prone to do so before the advent of cell phones. As I drove along, I considered likely and unlikely catasthophes due to the weather and traffic conditions, the 'what ifs' crossed my mind.

What if I went into labor right here? I was in the inside lane; how would I reach the exit? What if I ran out of gas? How would I get to a gas station? What if I had a flat tire? Could I change it or would someone stop to help me? What if the guy in front of me with the perpetual turn signal actually changed lanes? Would anyone be prepared for his actions? What if there were an accident and I needed to stop quickly? Would I slam into the vehicle just ahead of me? Was I following too closely?

As I got lost deeper and deeper into the mundane thoughts of traffic accidents, a car pulled into the space between my car and the one just ahead of me. As it settled into its location, the driver lightly touched the brakes, causing a flash of red. In my distracted state, I thought one of my 'what ifs' had occurred! I slammed on my brakes and my car did donuts across five lanes of traffic, coming to stop against the far guardrail and facing the on-coming traffic.

Here's the possibility of a miracle: Five lanes of on-coming traffic stopped and no other car was involved. A Mesquite policeman, who happened to be in the traffic just a few cars away, came forward. Once he checked to see that I was unhurt, he stopped the traffic again, turned my car around for me and I went directly home. Miracle? What do you think?

The baby I carried in April was born healthy and full-term in May. When she was about three months old, I awoke one morning with terrible fear and dread. Without knowing why, I ran to her room and she appeared to be lifeless, barely breathing. I called the pediatrician's office and, apparently in 1974, an emergency call could still be put on hold. I ran into the front yard. Why? Again, I don't know. Perhaps I thought if I shook her and held her in the air, she would breathe better, but she didn't.

A neighbor saw me behaving erratically and came to my aid. We got into her car and she drove Denise and me to Doctors Hospital, the nearest one, but still five or six miles away. All the way, I pushed on her little chest and begged her to breathe, but her breathing completely stopped as we approached the Emergency Entrance. We were barely inside the Emergency Room when a nurse took my baby and ran to get help. Dee was on a respirator within seconds, but had lapsed into a coma.

I called my husband who was at work. I called my mother-in-law in Pennsylvania and asked her to come be with us. I was so afraid. I prayed non-stop for two days while I watched the machine breathe for Denise. Eventually, Dee breathed on her own. The respirator was removed and she was placed under an oxygen apparatus. The doctor in charge visited with my husband and me; he explained that, if Denise survived, she had probably suffered irreversible brain injury. I prayed. I asked the doctor what was wrong with my baby. He had no answers. Friends, relatives, doctors and nurses came and went. Denise lay unmoving, seemingly asleep, and was fed intravenously. I prayed. With the exception of bathroom breaks and brief clothes changes, I did not leave my daughter for almost four days. I prayed.

There was a problem with my prayers. I was raised Southern Baptist and had been taught every prayer must end with 'not my will, but Thine be done'. I could not say that. I was afraid God's Will was for my daughter to be taken from me and I would not, could not, give my permission. But, there came a time, nearly forty-eight hours into Dee's ordeal, when I could no longer hold out for 'my will'. Instead of praying for Dee's recovery, I prayed for strength to deal with whatever the true situation was.

Here's the possibility of a miracle: At 'amen,' Denise opened her eyes and began to cry--loudly and wonderfully strong. I ran to the nurse's station. Twenty-four hours later, Denise was released from the hospital; the diagnosis shown on her chart was 'Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, Interrupted'. Dee grew to be a healthy, honor student who obtained a Bachelor of Science degree in psychology and social services. There was no brain injury and no permanent effects of any kind from her brush with death.

I don't know why I awoke early the morning Denise was in trouble. It was an hour before I normally got up. I don't know why I was frightened and why I felt compelled to go immediately to Denise's crib. The possibility of a third miracle was that awakening.

These events gave me an opportunity for a fourth miracle, that of learning to let go of things outside of my control and of tuning into the Universal Strength and Power. I had the opportunity to learn to accept life as it really is. I still have trouble with that lesson and am re-taught regularly through everyday, as well as extra-ordinary, miracles.