Or three -or four -or five.
Just after I posted my last blog about steeping in God’s reality I looked through other photos I took this week. The significance of this simple photo of a grandfather carrying his grandson on his shoulders suddenly hit me.
Five and a half years ago we had a tough week full of bad news:
-Our daughter learned that damage from the disease that had already given her so much pain was more advanced than the specialist had thought and it was highly unlikely she could conceive a child.
-My husband learned he had a serious degenerative bone disease that affected his spine so severely that the strange malformation was threatening his spinal cord. He had to give up all sports and stressful physical activity immediately.
-A business coming out of a research project he had dedicated years to was pronounced dead, done, and defunct.
That week I had a bizarre experience when I heard a voice that said, “Follow 228, Ban our tyres,” that led to an understanding of the definition of hope I believe the Lord gave me. I wrote about it here:
Hope: vision-led endurance
I had a vision of babies for my daughter, health for my husband, as well as a satisfying post-retirement business for him. It seemed like an impossible hope at the time, but I felt the Lord was asking us to be patient while he worked things out.
This is a photo of one of the children born to that infertile mother, conceived, like his sisters, without medical intervention.
This is a photo of his grandfather, not only able to walk and have full use of his hands, but able to carry the weight of that child on his back without pain despite missing a vertebra. (It’s been replaced by some sort of vascular tissue growing there now which doesn’t pinch his spinal cord.)
This is a photo of a visit brought about by God-coincidence. As for the business, he has been able to apply his expertise to a new venture -and he and son-in-law sat together working on it this week beside this beautiful lawn.
This is a photo taken by a photographer who was smiling so much that day, her face hurt.
Our son-in-law (miracle # 4 in this story) survived a bout of flesh-eating disease which took him as close to death’s door as his doctors had ever seen someone come and still be restored to full health, with all his limbs, organs and brain intact and fully functional.
“You know it’s a miracle that guy is still alive,” one of them told his colleague.
“What? That guy should be f…. dead!” exclaimed another of the first specialists to treat him, upon hearing reports of “John’s” recovery after he returned from a long trip.
Their generous friend gave our daughter and son-in-love the gift of a week at a time share in Montana to celebrate. Now we have only been to that part of the world two, maybe three times in the past 20 years, but my husband just happened to have an appointment in the same area this very same week so we joined them for a couple of days.
Miracle # 5? The golf course closed for the season just before we arrived, but it was open to guests to stroll around on the green, green grass, beside still waters and brilliant autumn-coloured trees in warm sunshine (60 degrees F in late October is warm to Canadians!) without having to take turns hitting or chasing or losing those silly little balls. In fact our grandchildren made a profit selling 27 found balls to their Daddy.
I’m looking at the photo and steeping in the reality of God’s goodness.
Wow. Thank you, Lord! Thank you!
I love you.