miracles

Just after Danny and I announced that we have a baby on the way, I went out to lunch with my sister. As we sat chatting, I felt a little tug on my hair. I looked up thinking it was one of the many plants decorating the walls of the cafe, but there was none. There was no draft in the room, and we were alone by the window. It could have been nothing. Or perhaps a friendly someone, somewhere, just wanted my attention.

Since then I've been unusually aware of the silent little miracles the Lord gives me. The first I remember was at the grocery store. Work had drained me, I felt sick and I knew I barely had the energy to walk to the back of the store to carry a gallon of milk, let alone walk a far distance through the parking lot to the car afterwards. I felt like a wilted flower as I weakly turned the steering wheel down an isle. Had I not been driving slowly I might have missed the spot--right in front--entirely. Almost in slow motion, I stared at the empty space and knew the Lord had saved it for me.

There are other things, like finding what I needed for Christmas gifts in all the spots I went looking, or finding water bottles on the floor of my car even when I was sure I drank all of them. When I bend down to reach into the dryer and don't think I can reach all the clothes--and then a pair of jeans clings to all the socks and drags them out in one scoop. When I don't want to be alone at the office at night during an unexpected software release, and then God sends an unexpected coworker to work late just down the hall. When I'm feeling uncomfortable and Boxster comes to snuggle in the small of my back--right where it hurts.

The Lord watches out for me.