ACIM, I sat in the hospital in another state as my sister-in-law had cancer surgery. The next, I sat with my father (on the other side of the country) who was explaining to me how he’d been tricked into signing away any inheritance our family might receive. Because my time with my father went long, I lost my only opportunity to visit my mother’s grave.
The next weekend (just days before the holiday), I was frantically trying to put together Christmas for my family. The day before Christmas Eve, I learned my sister-in-law’s recovery wasn’t going well, and that she’d be in the hospital for Christmas.
Christmas Eve morning I had a mini meltdown. All I could find was tears, as I anticipated tramping through stores trying to get the gifts I still hadn’t purchased. I was emotionally exhausted. And I was fighting to keep shame at bay as I wasn’t feeling particularly close to God, while feeling stretched with life’s demands-finances, work, family, and ministry.
What I’ve learned is that these are the times when, if I’ll listen, God has much to say to me. That morning, I lay on my bed, face down, sobbing into the covers and praying-surrendering and asking God to purify my heart and my perspective.
After the holiday passed, the messages began arriving.
I found a Christian fiction book in a new second-hand shop by my house. Two-thirds of the way into the book, the first message came…
“Sounds to me like you’re missing all the little miracles just because you want the big miracle to hurry up and happen.” – from Lights of the Veil
I was hit with a jolt of conviction. The words spoken to the main character in Patsy Metzer’s novel summed up exactly where I found myself. Forgetting to watch for the little miracles in my longing for big miracles. I was back in the old familiar territory of wanting to receive big proof that all of this hard work, all of this heart, all of this struggle really means something. I put the book down, and asked God to open my eyes and my heart to his work.
