The Sweetest Mother's Day Gift!

Most of us think about miracles in the biggest sense. We think about when the Savior healed the sick, made the blind see and the deaf hear. He even brought a few people back from the dead. Including himself. I don’t disagree that these instances are nothing short of pure miracles sent from God but I think we only see miracles in these ways, through these examples. I believe we often think that a miracle can only be defined as momentous, life changing or life saving.

I like to think miracles happen every day. We just don’t notice them. I like to think that God’s hand dips down from Heaven and puts just the right miracle in our lives at just the right time, big and small, more often than we realize.

A magical, life saving, God inspired, straight from heaven miracle happen to my family recently and I think it is important to take time to marvel over the moments that saved my grandparents’ lives.

On March 3 around 1 o’clock in the morning, my grandparents’ home for the past 40 years started on fire. The garage, both of their cars and part of the house were burnt to the ground. The rest of the house has been destroyed beyond repair by smoke and heat damage. Most of what they own is ruined and many memories cannot be saved.

The obvious miracle here is that my grandparents got out alive and we will thank God for that every day. But I think a smaller miracle happened in the process that should not go unnoticed.

For whatever reason, my grandpa couldn’t sleep that night. It got to the point where he decided to just get up, get dressed, make some coffee and turn on the TV. He eventually heard some noises in the garage and decided to see what was going on. After struggling to get the door open, he found the garage in flames. Things were already too out of control for anything to be done besides to get out of the house.

Frantic calls to 911 were made and my parents, aunts and uncles rushed to the house as soon as they heard the news.

It is truly a miracle that they were able to get out of the house in time BUT if it were not for my grandpa not being able to sleep, I am not so sure any miracles would have happened that night.

In my imagination, I see God’s hand coming down from Heaven, poking my grandpa awake numerous times. I can see the Spirit whispering in his ear to just get up because he wasn’t sleeping well any way. I imagine God’s hand taking the covers off of him and nudging him out of bed.

It is not just a coincidence that he could not sleep that night. That he got out of bed, turned on the TV, made some coffee. That is God. That is God’s hand stretching into our earthly world to perform a miracle that would save my grandparents lives.

The Savior’s physical touch that saved so many lives may not be on earth today but I know and believe that his spiritual touch grazes our lives everyday.

Miracles can be big but most are small and most go unnoticed. I pray that I will try harder to see the miracles God places in my life each day and I pray I will never forget to thank God for those miracles. Especially this one.

 
So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Courtney Johnson

Courtney Johnson is a lifelong resident of the beautiful state of Idaho, an Idaho State University grad and most recently a wife. She is currently obsessed with learning to cook, loving her husband and blogging about their newlywed lives. Courtney is the community editor at the Idaho State Journal in Pocatello, Idaho. She enjoys capturing memories in words and photos.

Your Worth Is Not Someone Else’s To Measure

In: Faith, Living
Woman looking over canyon

Insecurity is something we all carry in one form or another. For me, it has probably always looked confident and outgoing from the outside. But internally, it can feel heavy, complicated, and exhausting at times. And when someone comes along whose behavior reinforces those insecurities, it amplifies what was already there. There was someone I had hoped to genuinely connect with, but it was clear from the start that the feeling wasn’t mutual. From the beginning, their wall was up. No matter how kind I tried to be or how carefully I showed up, it never came down. Their distance...

Keep Reading

Lord, Give Me Faith Like Hannah

In: Faith
Woman walking in field with hand in wheat

Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten. She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.  She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone. She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness. Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement. Yet Hannah pressed...

Keep Reading

God Carries Me Through the Deep Waters of Change

In: Faith, Living, Motherhood
Woman at the beach as waves come in

“Ahhh!” My underwater scream garbled in my snorkel tube as the manta ray’s cavernous mouth swept a hand’s distance from my face. My fingers tightened around the surfboard until my knuckles ached. My arms trembled. I jerked my head side to side, searching for my daughters, Mia and Megan. Recent college graduates, they had joined me on one last mother-daughter vacation before launching their adult lives. They floated easily on the vibrant Hawaiian water, relaxed, trusting. I wanted to borrow their calm. Earlier, our guide had explained that the LED lights built into the surfboard attracted plankton the way college...

Keep Reading

Faith After a Rare Disease Diagnosis

In: Faith, Motherhood
Family smiling in posed photo

My pastor frequently speaks of “kid pain” and acknowledges there’s nothing like it. I can testify to that. After nine months of uncertainty and unexplained issues following the birth of our now 4-year-old daughter, Harlow, we finally received her diagnosis of Pyruvate Dehydrogenase Complex Deficiency (PDCD), a life-limiting mitochondrial disease with no cure and no FDA-approved treatments. It was heartbreaking. In moments like these, a parent can fall into complete desperation. You go through a range of emotions almost too fast to name: fear for your child’s life; anxiousness about how much time you’ll get with them; overwhelming grief. And...

Keep Reading

What If I Don’t Hear God’s Voice?

In: Faith
Woman with folded hands looking up

There have been many times over the years when I’ve heard others share stories of how the Lord spoke to them or gave them a sign. Seashells scattered along a sandy beach, numbered to represent how many children they would have. A quiet walk in the park, followed by a clear sense that another little one was coming. What a blessing, I think, when I hear and read their stories. I often wonder how much more faith they must have than I do—to know with such certainty that what they heard was truly God speaking. I listen, I smile, and...

Keep Reading

God Holds You As You Hold Everyone Else

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding toddler daughter on her hip, standing outside

She stands in the kitchen, hands trembling over the sink, tears she cannot let fall pressing behind her eyes. The world outside her window is quiet, but inside her heart there is a storm she cannot name. She is hurting, not because she does not love her life, but because somewhere along the way she forgot how to breathe inside it. Yet even in her pain, little voices call her name. Tiny hands tug at her shirt. Lunchboxes need packing, homework needs checking, hearts need holding. And so she wipes her face, forces a smile, and whispers a quiet prayer:...

Keep Reading

Yes, I Know Fear—but I Also Know Faith

In: Faith, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hands in hospital bed

The night my daughter woke up screaming at 3 a.m., I knew something was wrong. Her cry wasn’t the half-asleep whimper of a bad dream. Instead, it was pain—raw and sharp. Within an hour, we were rushing to the emergency room, the world outside our headlights still wrapped in darkness. Tests, scans, questions, and then the words no parent ever wants to hear: “We’re transferring her to another hospital by ambulance. She needs surgery right away.” They said “torsion.” They said “tumor.” They said “appendix.” I nodded, because that’s what mothers do. We stay steady, even when our hearts are...

Keep Reading

10 Years after My Mother’s Death, Her Faith Still Guides Me

In: Faith, Grief
Woman praying

Growing up, I was a reluctant Catholic. My mother would drag us to church, and I’d go through the motions—fingers moving across rosary beads without really feeling the prayers. But she never stopped. Sunday Mass, daily prayers, devotions to the Blessed Mother. She was relentless in her faith, not because she was trying to force it on us, but because she genuinely believed we would need it someday. She was right. My mother died of stage 4 colon cancer in 2012. My brother and I watched her suffer, saw how her body betrayed her, watched as treatments failed. And here’s...

Keep Reading

Finding God in the Middle of Disbelief: A Mom’s Journey through Faith and Fear

In: Faith
Mother holding hand of young child, silhouette

“But the Lord is with me like a mighty warrior; so my persecutors will stumble and not triumph over me.” – Jeremiah 20:11 God, thank You for making sure my son is okay. Thank You for this just being paranoia. I believe in You. I believe in Your control. I believe. I believe. I believe. These words streamed through my head as my husband drove us downtown to visit our first specialist with our 4-month-old son, Maximus. Our pediatrician had written me off, but I could not ignore the feeling in my bones that something was wrong. Tiny, hard bumps...

Keep Reading

In Praise of Indebtedness: How Threads of Reciprocity Weave Us Together

In: Faith, Living
Woman holding casserole

It all started with tomatoes. After we moved, a neighbor invited us to pick from the abundance in her and her husband’s gardens. In return for a pile of tomatoes gathered from their raised beds, I left a plastic bag of homegrown pumpkins on their porch. Later that summer, our neighbor stopped by with a recycled container full of still more fruits. By the fall, we were sharing chili and cookies over dinner at our place. Threads of indebtedness were weaving us together. For most of my life, the idea of indebtedness has tasted rather repulsive on my tongue. The...

Keep Reading