Was it a coincidence? Or was it a “small miracle?”
That’s the question to ponder after you read this story.
It happened last Friday when an early morning phone call -- at least early for me -- jingled my cell phone.
For the record, I don’t turn my cell phone on until 9 a.m. That’s when my freelance business day starts, even though I may still be in my PJs sipping coffee and reading the Herald.
My clients can’t see me, although I do worry about the capabilities of this new iPhone.
Oddly enough, on this particular day Bill and I woke up very early. Even the cat wouldn’t budge from the foot of the bed and watched us depart with one eye open. An angry eye, I might add.
So while I was rummaging through the sections of newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee at my elbow, I suddenly felt that I needed to turn on my cell phone. The thought that someone might be calling me vibrated in my mind. As if in answer, I jumped up from the couch and headed off to retrieve my phone.
When I powered up the iPhone, it announced in big numbers across the top of the screen -- bigger than a normal little cell phone -- that it was 7:25 a.m. Friday, Jan. 30.
“Why am I turning on my cell phone so early,” I thought to myself as I returned to the opinion page. “I’m not even finished reading the newspaper yet.”
What happened next isn’t particularly exceptional. Someone rang my cell at 8 a.m. What is extraordinary is that I had it on and sitting next to me.
The voice at the other end was filled with emotion, offering first an apology for calling early. Then, the story poured out in a river of grief.
The gal had been diagnosed with breast cancer -- again.
Her words went to the depth of my being -- a cold fear that I so intimately understood.
We cried. We shared. I listened.
As she was about to hang up, she told me how much more at peace she felt and again apologized for calling earlier than she thought she should.
“No problem!" I reassured her. “I usually don’t have my cell phone on until much later, but I turned it on at 7:25 this morning. “
She gasped. Then she excitedly went on to tell me that when she’d been in prayer, she had told God how terribly overwhelmed she felt.
And that’s when a quiet thought had brushed across her heart, “Call Lucy.”
“I glanced at my watch,” she said, her voice racing with joy, “but it was 7:25 and too early to call. And even though the thought kept nudging me, I waited until 8 o’clock.”
But as you know, I was ready and waiting at 7:25.
Coincidence or “small miracle”?
I’ll let you decide.