It’s called “Mysterious Ways” in Guideposts Magazine; a section where readers submit their story of what seems to be more than a coincidence.
Whatever the incident, there is always a feeling that God has intervened in some way.
I call these events “small miracles” and from time to time they happen to me.
Recently, at a funeral of an elderly friend, I reconnected with people that had once been part of my life when I attended services at this church. There were folks I hadn’t seen in years, some like me who returned to remember the saintly man who had died.
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"Where was Sherry?" I thought to myself. She’d been a member who had moved away years ago.
I’d always loved our conversations after Sunday church; we’d had a connection even though she was much younger than me. Her move out of the area, a marriage and the name change made me believe there was little chance of reconnecting.
Even so, I breathed a quiet prayer, “I’d like to know what happened to Sherry — that she’s OK.”
A month passed. I was heading home from Spokane, despite protests from my daughter, Tiffany, who wanted me to stay one more night.
Daylight was fading and a gentle rain began to fall. Suddenly, I felt that I shouldn’t be out on the freeway that night, that I should turn around and go back to Tiffany’s home.
It didn’t make sense. I was already 30 minutes down the highway. But the sense of urgency sent me back the way I’d just come, arriving to the cheers of grandkids.
The next morning, we decided to visit a McDonald’s in a different area, one that had a large inside play area where the grandchildren could stay out of the weather. While Tiffany ordered our breakfast, I followed the eager children to the adjoining room.
“It’s cold in here!" I casually commented to a young woman as I seated myself a few tables away. She responded with a cheery confirmation that rain or shine, the place always required a jacket.
There was something about her voice. I turned to take a closer look.
“Are you Sherry?” I tentatively asked.
Our reunion after more than 15 years seemed like a coincidence. But I call it a “small miracle.”