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Lost at Sea

KEISA: Not a cloud in the sky, sunlight kissing Charleston, South Carolina’s downtown market. This was the perfect way to spend the Saturday before Labor Day, shopping with my mother, sister-in-law Paula and our three girls, while the guys were off deep-sea fishing.

It was all my husband, Rex, had talked about for weeks, from the moment he got the new boat—a 38-foot cabin cruiser. He’d had it out only a few times before. I checked the time on my cell, a little after 10 a.m. They’re probably baiting their hooks about now. It felt great to get away.

We were spending the weekend at my brother Rodney’s and his wife Paula’s place in Charleston, a four-hour drive from our home. “I hope the fish are biting,” I said to Mom. “Rex promised to take me out to dinner tonight.”

Mom shook her head. “You know how those boys are,” she said. “Dad said not to expect them before dark.”

REX: I eased off the throttle, bringing the boat to rest over a man-made reef. “Here’s the spot,” I called out to my crew, three guys and three boys. The sun was already blistering hot. I snagged a Dr Pepper from the cooler.

“Okay, let’s…” The words never got out of my mouth. An ear-piercing alarm screamed. My eyes flew to the gauges. Check. I threw open the doors to the engines. Saltwater filled half the compartment and was rising fast. I grabbed the radio mic. “Mayday! Mayday!” I gave our compass reading. “Heading 108. Twenty-one miles off the coast. Express Cruiser taking on water.” Dead silence.

Before I could try the radio again my 15-year-old son, Tyler, yelled from below deck. “Dad! Water’s pouring in the hold!”

I looked to the stern. The diving platform was already underwater. “Everyone get in your life jackets and get to the front of the boat,” I ordered. I pulled on my preserver and counted heads. Tyler. Rodney and his 14-year-old son, Kaleb. Another brother-in-law Jody and his little guy, Xander. He was only five! Finally my father-in-law, Roger, the kids’ grandpa. There was no choice but to abandon ship. We needed some way to stay together. I searched the boat…there was plenty of rope, emergency flares lying under the windshield. We had the bait—squid, shiners—in a back compartment, our rods and the…

“Grab the cooler,” I yelled. It was a big one filled with brats, chicken salad and soda. We’d be able to hold onto it and stay afloat. “Get the rope from the bumpers and tie up together. Hurry!” Cool water lapped at my feet. We’d have a few hours at least before hypothermia set in.

The guys scrambled, tying the rope around their waists and then to each other. They pushed off from the boat with the cooler. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Typed in a text to Keisa: “Mayday. Heading 108. 21 miles.” Hit send. No service, the screen flashed back. Grabbed the radio mic again and turned to see a massive wave crashing over the stern. It slammed me against the windshield and swept our flares out to sea. Now how were we going to get help?

I swam over to the rest of the group. Only the bow remained above the surface. Oil and gasoline pooled around us. It burned our skin. “We’ve got to get out of here,” I said, my eyes watering from the fumes.

We kicked about 50 feet away. Searing pain shot through my leg. Tyler screamed. I reached into the water and pulled something slimy from his leg. “Jellyfish!” I said. They were everywhere. Xander was sobbing. “Am I going to die?” he wailed.

“No,” Roger answered firmly. “God is watching over us. We just need to pray.”

KEISA: I was looking at dresses when my cell went off. “God Bless the Broken Road,” Rex’s ringtone. I pulled it out of my purse, but there was no message. “That’s odd,” I said. “Rex just tried to call me.” I checked the time. 11 a.m.

“Don’t worry about it,” Paula said. “I’m sure they’re having a ball out there.”

REX: The waves pushed us farther out to sea. We strained to keep them from flipping the cooler. I looked back. I could barely see the boat. “We’re going to end up in the middle of the ocean with this current,” I said to Rodney. I tied a length of rope around my waist and then to the cooler. “Everyone kick,” I said. “I’m going to tow us back to the boat.”

I turned and reached my arm into the water, pulling with all my strength. A wave swept over me, pushing me backward. I can’t give up, I thought. The guys are depending on me. I paddled harder, stretching as far as I could with each stroke. But it was like I was swimming in place. My chest and leg muscles ached, my heart pounded. Ever so slowly the boat drew closer. I pulled up about 50 feet away. In the distance I saw a tanker. This could be it!

“Look over there,” I said, pointing to the ship. “Rodney, swim with me to our boat. If we can get up high enough maybe they’ll see us.”

We untied ourselves from the cooler, swam to the bow and climbed to the top. Hanging on with my right arm, I waved my left arm frantically. But it was no use. No one saw us. We lowered ourselves back into the water. I cut the anchor loose so I could tie the rope to the cooler to keep us from drifting away. Something hit my leg…hard. “Sharks!” Rodney said. “They smell the bait.”

KEISA: The dishes had long been cleared away. Spaghetti—not the nice dinner Rex had promised me. It wasn’t like him to blow off a date. They should have been back by now. It was 10 p.m., more than two hours after dark. My mind kept going back to that call. What if there’d been a problem?

Mom, Paula and I lingered at the table. I had my cell phone open, pretending to play a game while I looked up the number for the Coast Guard.

I went to a bedroom to make the call. “Coast Guard,” a voice on the other end answered. “Lt. Rhodes speaking.”

“My husband was out deep-sea fishing with my brothers and dad. They’re overdue,” I said. “I’m worried they might have engine trouble or something.”

“Let me check the log,” he said calmly. “Let’s see…Mayday call about ten this morning. Says there was interference. We didn’t get any details. We sent out a chopper and didn’t see anything. We’ll get back out there and I’ll stay in touch.”

I tried to tell myself that they’d be all right, stranded somewhere on the boat. At least they had enough food in that cooler to feed an army. I didn’t say anything to the others yet.

REX: The sharks were out there somewhere, waiting. But I had a more pressing concern. I couldn’t stop shivering. I could feel Tyler next to me shaking as well. Hypothermia coming on. It was all I could do to hold on to the cooler, my body exhausted. I opened the cooler lid and pulled out a Dr Pepper, took a sip and handed the bottle to Tyler. “We’ve got to stay hydrated,” I said.

We’d been out here for 12 hours. “The Coast Guard’s looking for us by now,” I said to reassure the guys. “The girls would have called when we didn’t come in.” But would there be enough time? Would I ever hold Keisa again? God, tell me this isn’t how it’s going to end, I prayed.

I hooked my legs around Tyler’s and Roger’s to try and keep us warm. I could hear Xander crying again. It was a miracle the little guy was even still alive. I felt so helpless.

Someone was singing. Roger. “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…” I couldn’t help but join in. “I once was lost…” The others did too, Xander loudest of all. I looked up to the heavens. The sky was awash with stars, brighter than I’d ever seen. Lord, we’ve done all we can, I prayed. The rest is up to you. My body still quivering from the cold, our fate as bleak as ever, I sang along, “Twas grace that brought us safe thus far…and grace will lead us home.”

KEISA: My cell phone rang. I lunged for it. What time was it anyway? The clock read 3:30 a.m. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Willimon, Lt. Rhodes here. I’m sorry to report we haven’t seen any sign of your family. We’ve got two choppers in the air and a C-130 transport plane, plus a cutter in the water, but…it’s a big ocean. I was hoping you might have a photo of the boat that you could e-mail us.”

“I think so,” I said. I remembered Rex posting some pictures on Facebook.

I went to Paula’s bedroom, woke her up and explained the situation. “I need to get on your computer.” I sent Lt. Rhodes a picture of the boat. Mom and Paula sat down at the table, their faces etched with worry.

“All we can do is put it in God’s hands,” Mom said. “We need people praying.”

Mom got on the phone to our pastor back home. Paula called Jody’s wife, Crystal, in North Carolina, who hadn’t made the trip, then her minister. I woke up Rex’s mother and my sister Alisa in North Carolina. “I’ll ask for prayers on Facebook,” Alisa said.

I clicked over to the Bible on my cell phone. What was that verse I’d read in my morning devotional? James 1:6. But let him ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed.

I could only imagine what the guys were going through out there, tossed by the waves, clinging to survival. But I wasn’t going to let my faith waver. God knew where they were in that big ocean. He was our only hope.

The three of us bent our heads. “Dear God,” Mom prayed, “send your angels to bring them home safely.”

REX: The sun was just peeking out over the horizon. There was a noise in the distance. Whup-whup-whup. “They’re coming!” I shouted. We waved and yelled until I thought my arms would fall off.

But the helicopter flew past us. My heart sank. How could they have not seen us? Then it stopped…and turned back, hovering directly above us. The wind from the rotor blades sprayed saltwater over us. All I could feel was the joy of being alive. I popped the cooler, grabbed a Dr Pepper, opened it and handed it to Roger. “Pass it around,” I said. “This is a moment to celebrate.”

“Look, a frogman,” Xander hollered. We watched as a rope lowered a man in a wetsuit down to the water. He swam over to us. “Everybody okay?” he said. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

He escorted Xander and Jody to the hoist first. It lifted them skyward. Then Kaleb and Tyler and finally Roger. “That’s all this bird can hold,” the rescue swimmer told Rodney and me. “But we’ve got another one on the way.” I thought about all the ways I’d tried to get help. The radio call that hadn’t gone through, my cell phone out of service, flares washed away. But God had never failed us. He’d heard our Mayday call loud and clear.

KEISA: I held Rex tight in the emergency room, tears flooding my cheeks. I didn’t think I’d ever let him go. “The boat sank?” I murmured again, in wonder. What a miracle they’d all survived! Rex started to speak, but I covered his lips with my finger. “Shhh,” I said. “Not yet. You need to rest. You can tell me all about it when you take me out to dinner.”

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Lost… and Found, With a Little Bit of Help

I can’t tell you how many objects I’ve lost over the years—favorite sweatshirts, car keys, gloves, hats, one half of a pair of socks, sunglasses, my cell phone, my digital camera. Most times, those things were gone for good (I hope someone in the Dominican Republic is enjoying my vacation photos at least). But the story of Michael Amberson, in the Gadsden Times this week, gives me hope that I may still find the more meaningful things I’ve lost.

Less than a year ago, Michael’s grandfather passed away. Grandpa Charles had taught Michael a lot about the things he’d need to get ahead in life. Like when Michael graduated Gadsden High School in 1996. Grandpa Charles paid the down payment for Michael’s class ring and helped his grandson set up a payment plan at the jewelry store to teach him how to establish good credit. That gift, and the lesson that came with it was just one of many memories that Michael recalled after his grandfather died. It was just too bad that Michael had lost the ring somewhere in his dorm his freshman year at Jacksonville State University.

Then, two weeks ago, a man named Chad West was mowing the lawn for a friend in Gadsden when he spotted a glint of metal at the foot of a dogwood tree. He bent down and picked the object up. It was a ring, a class ring—with the name Michael Amberson engraved inside.

Michael’s number wasn’t listed in the phone book. Chad was unsure how to ever find the owner—did he even live in Gadsden anymore? Then the answer fell into his lap… literally. See, Chad was a mailman, and as he sorted through his stack of mail to deliver one day, he spotted an envelope with Michael Amberson’s name on it. Last Friday, the ring that meant so much to Michael came back to him.

Jacksonville State University and Gadsden are more than 22 miles from one another. It had been 14 years since the ring was lost. And yet, in Michael’s time of grief, the ring that was tied so closely to memories of his Grandpa Charles ended up right where it would be found… by a mailman, one person who could definitely deliver it.

None of this means my camera will ever make its way back to me (or that my lost socks will rejoin the ones they’ve abandoned). But it’s good to know that there’s something reuniting people with the beloved things they thought had been lost forever.

Has something meaningful to you been lost, and found, in a surprising and mysterious way? Let us know at mw@guideposts.org.

Look to the Heavens: A Conversation with Father Kurzynski

Why does looking at the night sky inspire in us such wonder and awe? That’s a question Father James Kurzynski has been fascinated with his whole life. A hobby astronomer and priest in the Diocese of La Crosse, Wisconsin, Father Kurzynski was instrumental in the creation of the Vatican Observatory’s first “Faith and Astronomy Workshop,” designed for parish educators interested in learning more about astronomy and the science behind our universe. Father Kurzynski is also the author of the book God’s Canvas: An Exploration of Faith & Science. He recently talked to Mysterious Ways to shed some light on the mysteries of faith and the universe…

How did your interest in astronomy and faith begin?

It started as a kid. I grew up in rural Wisconsin on our family farm. I was really blessed to be born in a very dark part of the state with clear skies where I could see the stars. I was a daydreamer who loved to lie in the backyard and marvel at the beauty of the night sky. I would look at the heavens and be amazed with God’s love for me. The deep connection we share with creation and with God was very self-evident to me as a child when I saw the stars at night. It sparked a lot of questions for me, so I began to grow up on faith and science.

I went on to minor in astronomy in college. When I entered seminary, I wanted to explore some of the classic questions of faith and science, but my seminary didn’t have any classes on that. That’s when I reached out to the Vatican Observatory, and ended up working with them to help create the “Faith and Astronomy Workshop.”

There are many stunning sights in this world that elicit awe and wonder, and make us think of our faith and of God, but it seems that the night sky holds a particularly powerful experience for many. Why do you think that is?

When you look at a night sky and see what seem to be just pinpricks of light in exception to the moon, the honest question you always ask is: What else is out there?

When you begin to look into that, you start to understand the immense distances between our earth and everything else. You start talking about things like billions of light years and the size of our solar system. So it can be a very normal tendency to see ourselves as incredibly small. For some, this leads to a crisis of faith, because unfortunately, a modern presumption is that we need to be significant in proportion to creation to be important in God’s eyes. But Scripture doesn’t support this idea. In fact, it supports the opposite idea. Scripture says that it is in smallness that we find our meaning. It is when we are small that God can lift us up.

The philosopher G.K. Cheserton wrote a sketch in his book Tremendous Trifles that illustrates this well. In it, two friends are each granted a wish. One wishes to become a giant, while one wishes to be made very small. The giant is underwhelmed by the world, which seems tiny from his perspective, and unimpressive. The small man, on the other hand, remains in a constant state of awe and wonder.

What can we make of the tumultuous relationship between science—like astronomy—and religion?

Actually, the original history was that astronomy and faith were very closely connected. It wasn’t until recent day that the fight dimension has taken hold. When you look at the nature of science and faith, they’re not at odds with each other. Science examines the physical world and remains neutral about God and faith. Science doesn’t have the ability to explain everything. The proper relationship between science and faith is as dialogue partners.

It’s one thing to ask, as science does, “How are we here?” But it’s another to ask, “Why do I exist? Why do I feel the need to search for purpose? Why does my life seem to be meaningful?” The calling that we have to ask these questions, to improve ourselves, points us to something beyond ourselves. It shows us that something is calling to us as we’re calling to it.

Are there places in the Bible, or early in Judeo-Christian history, where we can see this close connection?

There’s a clear tradition in scripture of the heavenly bodies being symbolic for people. When we look at the stars we think of God’s promise to Abraham, “Look at the sky and count the stars…that’s how numerous your descendants will be.” Here, the stars represent people. Or we think of the dreaming of Joseph and how these eleven stars and the sun and moon bowed down before him. The eleven stars, the sun, and the moon in Joseph’s story are his brothers and his mother and father.

There is a distinction between this and astrology, whereby people look to the stars to purportedly predict the future. Sometimes people will question me on this and ask, “What about the star of Bethlehem, and the wise men?” At that time, the wise men weren’t part of what we would now consider a Judeo-Christian approach to an understanding of the heavens. They were following to the best of their ability what truth was. They were practicing to the best of their abilities their faith. And at the time of Jesus’ birth, everything, even the natural world, was pointing people to his arrival regardless of what faith or tradition he would have represented.

Why do we think of the sky as the location of heaven?

We can definitely see a logical history of connecting the night sky with the heavens. In our modern context, we don’t hold that. There’s been an evolution in our understanding of heaven. We don’t want to limit heaven to that physical space alone. That would be like limiting God to a physical being in the universe.

Looking at the night sky, though, inspires us to dream of heaven as something far greater than what we perceive. It helps us realize that as magnificent and wondrous as our universe is, God is as mystical and unknown.

How does admiring and exploring our universe point us to God?

The way we know that we have a God who wants us to know him is that we live in a universe that wants to be known. Therefore, the universe has a Creator who also wants to be known. The universe doesn’t have to be comprehensible. It could be made in a way that we couldn’t understand. But it’s so understandable, even in the unknown, that we know that with time and patience, we’ll discover how the universe exists and why it is here.

And so, the universe itself becomes a very strong argument that there has to be something else. It points to something beyond us. This should give us hope and consolation.

Do you think there are other forms of intelligent life in the universe?

To say that we are the only life forms in the universe puts a limit on God’s creative act. I can’t limit him and say that he only created us. There are possibly other created beings out there that could be different from us, and we as people of faith should not be afraid of that.

Can God play the same role in other galaxies?

Yes. Because we are human, our tendency is to reduce God to human traits. We are limited beings and limited in what we can perceive. Our problem is that we also limit God in thinking that he has to have the same limitations that we have as humans. Instead we have to realize that God is not made, but simply is. He exists in such a way that he can be present at everything in the universe simultaneously, and everything—even the smallest particles, planets, dwarf planets, asteroids, and dust—are part of God and essential to God.

Look for the Rainbow

I have placed My rainbow in the clouds. It is the sign of My covenant with you and with all the earth.” (Genesis 9:13, NLT)

Rainbows have always meant a lot to our family. On the day that my sweet father went to heaven, we left the rehabilitation center where Daddy had died, and as we headed home, a double rainbow stretched over the highway between Decatur and Fort Worth, Texas.

It was as if God was saying, “I’ve got your Daddy, and this is your promise that you’ll see him again someday.”

Just as I was processing the beautiful display of God’s promise to me, Allyson, who was only 9 at the time, said, “God put two rainbows in the sky just for us–one for me and one for Abby because He knew how much we would miss Papaw.”

Precious.

Both girls had also grabbed onto that promise, giving them the same comfort I was experiencing from gazing at the wash of color across the morning sky.

Since then, it seems that any time I have a big decision to make or a situation where I really need the love of my Heavenly Father, a rainbow will appear out of nowhere. And each time, I feel that same comfort.

As I prepare to travel to Los Angeles next month to celebrate Allyson’s completion of her degree from the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising, I can’t help but remember another rainbow moment–on the day we first moved Ally to LA several years ago.

I was one distressed mama.

While I was thrilled that Ally was following her dream and pursuing a career in fashion, I couldn’t believe I was going to have to leave my baby girl in Los Angeles all by herself–2,000 miles from home.

We had prayed over her move, and God had shown us great favor at every turn; still, I was nervous and upset.

She is only 18! I thought. How is she going to survive in this huge city?

And what if we’ve chosen the wrong apartment complex for her…What if it’s unsafe? Maybe we should move her closer to school…And, will she be able to navigate the public transportation system? It’s so confusing…

The LA weather seemed to match my mood that afternoon–rainy and dreary. I was lost in worry when all of sudden, my eyes focused on the sky directly above Allyson and her boyfriend, Wesley, who had accompanied us to help with the move.

Painted across the grey sky was an absolutely beautiful rainbow.

Overcome with emotion, I couldn’t speak so I just pointed. We all took a moment to gaze at God’s goodness, His promise that everything was going to be OK.

Ally and I locked eyes and exchanged knowing smiles.

It was a rainbow of reassurance, and exactly what I needed before I could leave my baby girl and head back home.

Time after time, God has shown me His love in such a personal way. Sometimes it’s by way of rainbows in the sky; other times, through a scripture that jumps off the page; still other times through a kind word from a stranger. He is so faithful! God knows just what we need, exactly when we need it.

All we have to do is trust in Him, and look up.

Pray this with me today:

Father, thank You for loving me the way You do and for comforting me when I need it most. I trust You, God, with every part of my life. And, I am so grateful for the rainbows of reassurance You send my way, reminding me of Your faithfulness. You are a good God. In the Mighty Name of Your Son, Jesus, Amen.

Look for Daily Miracles

Today’s guest blogger is my work buddy Tarice Gray. She’s a Guideposts Books editor and loyal member of our Guideposts Prayer Fellowship crew. On Monday, she popped up at my desk to report a small “mysterious ways” she experienced on Sunday. Her tale left me smiling, so I just had to share it with you.

Here’s her “little miracle” story:

On Sunday morning, my pastor began his sermon by reminiscing a bit about a friend he once worked with. The man was kind and loved Jesus, but would overuse, in my pastor’s opinion, the phrase “Would you look at God!”

Pastor preached that most people used the saying to glorify Him after something significant or unexpected happened in their lives, like a good report from the doctor or an out-of-the-blue financial blessing.

But my pastor’s friend used it to celebrate “little things” like discovering a great parking space in a crowded lot or finding an item he wanted on sale. His friend said repeatedly in these times, “Would you look at God!”

Pastor’s response in those moments was that God didn’t care about such minor things. I had to agree. It seemed silly to say “Would you look at God!” because of a good parking space!

“But in hindsight,” Pastor said, “maybe He does care.”

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Later that Sunday, my 7-year-old daughter, Marin, and I went to BJ’s Wholesale Club. The chain is known for two things: never having bags to pack up your purchases and not letting you leave without an employee verifying your receipt. As a result, you can’t just tuck the receipt in your bag or pocket.

We had our receipt punched at the door. Marin held it while I balanced our items in my arms. I asked her to hand the receipt to me so we didn’t lose it, just in case I needed to return something. I’d purchased a pajamas set for Marin and her doll she just had to have, but wasn’t sure if it’d fit.

Just as Marin was about to hand me the receipt, a huge gust of wind blew it out of her hand and across the enormous parking lot into a cluster of debris. It was gone. “Ugh!”

I took a moment to rearrange our items, and we walked to the car. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the wind shifted. Like a small, gentle breath of air. One rectangle piece of paper escaped the cluster of debris, blew in our direction and landed at our feet. I reached down and checked it. I couldn’t believe it–our receipt! What were the chances?

I smiled at my little one and couldn’t help myself as I said to her, “Would you look at God!”

When was the last time you said, “Would you look at God!” Share your story below!

Listening to the Quiet

Today’s guest blogger is assistant editor Daniel Kessel.

One of my favorite stories in the April/May 2015 issue of Mysterious Ways comes from Senior Editor Rick Hamlin, an account of 17th-century philosopher Blaise Pascal’s spiritual epiphany. So when Rick posted a web-exclusive video about Pascal, I couldn’t wait to watch.

One line in particular stood out: “All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room,” Pascal once said.

Maybe it’s just because I tend toward shyness around the office, but that advice really resonated with me. Imagine–what if we were content all the time, even during life’s quieter moments?

Pascal’s wisdom echoed in my head one recent afternoon while I washed my coffee mug in the office kitchen. I didn’t feel much like talking. I just wanted to get another caffeine-filled cup of coffee and go back to writing. A quiet room sounded great to me.

“Hey, Daniel,” a cheerful voice said. Rick, one of the few people in the office who calls me “Daniel” instead of my nickname, “Dan.” He walked into the kitchen and switched on the electric kettle for his tea.

“How are you?” I replied. Rick said he was doing great and opened the cupboard for a tea bag. I finished cleaning my mug and pressed the button on the coffee machine. For a moment, we stood in silence. Golden silence, exactly the kind Pascal would have praised.

But then a thought popped into my head. Ask about Europe. Huh? Where’d that come from? To my knowledge, Rick didn’t have any vacations coming up. But as much as I wanted to grab my coffee and go, the urge wouldn’t disappear. Ask about Europe! Rick poured hot water into his mug–in a second he’d leave the kitchen. I blurted it out before I could stop myself.

“So, uh, do you have any trips to Europe coming up?” I asked.

Rick’s eyes lit up. “Well, yes,” he said. “My wife and I are flying to Italy this weekend!” An old colleague had contacted him at the last minute, he explained, and asked for consulting help on a writing project in Rome. “How did you know?” he asked.

Until that moment, I didn’t. We stood in the kitchen for a while longer and discussed Rick’s unexpected trip abroad. Inside, I was amazed. My question about Europe seemed to come from nowhere. Like someone had wormed his way into my brain, forced me to break the silence and speak.

I still agree with Pascal’s advice that silence is key for inner peace. Sometimes, though, a quiet voice speaks to us in that silence, and spurs us to connect with others. I know I won’t ignore it in the future.

Has a casual conversation ever led you to something or someone unexpected? A much-needed friend, or even a life-saving connection? Don’t be shy–tell us your stories!

Let It Snowflake!

Have you ever taken the time to examine a snowflake? I mean really, really study it?

I haven’t, at least not since I was a kid. When it snows in New York City, I’m more focused on getting to work without falling face first into a mound of slightly off-color sidewalk snow!

But, the next time it snows, I think I’ll take a closer look. According to Smithsonian.com, there are 39 categories of solid precipitation that can be broken down further into 121 subcategories. Isn’t that kind of amazing?

Take a look at this eye-opening graphic from chemistry teacher Andy Brunning that classifies all the snowflake varieties:

Caltech Physics professor Kenneth G. Libbrecht explains on his snow crystals website, “since snow crystals all follow slightly different paths through the clouds, individual crystals all tend to look different.” So, as the saying goes, no two snowflakes are alike.

That’s even more astounding when you consider that, according to the Library of Congress, “Each winter there are about 1 septillion (1, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000 or a trillion trillion) snow crystals that drop from the sky!” Man alive!

All of this got me wondering. If God put that much care into crafting snowflakes–each with a unique path–can you just imagine how much thought he put into us and our own individual paths? His designs are complex and inexplicable and completely marvelous when you think about it.

I’m almost looking forward to the next snowfall in New York. Until then, take a look at these photos of snowflakes up close–prepare to be dazzled!

Have you ever been floored by God’s designs in nature or beyond? Share your story below!

John Corbett: The Importance of Saying Yes

Most of my career I’ve played the nice guy, the romantic interest with a heart of gold. I’m really comfortable in those supporting roles. So my role in the new movie All Saints, as an Episcopal priest who’s assigned to a small church in Smyrna, Tennessee, was a definite challenge. Not that Michael Spurlock, who’s a real person—the movie is inspired by a true story—isn’t a good guy. But I’d never played the lead, a character who’s on every page of the script, and it scared me. Yet something made me say yes to it.

Actor John Corbett on the cover of the August 2017 issue of Guideposts magazine​Michael arrives at All Saints with orders to close the church down. The congregation has only a dozen members and can’t make the mortgage payments anymore. No reason to keep the place open, right?

Not quite. Refugees from Burma show up. There are 70 of them, members of the Karen ethnic group and observant Anglicans. They want to be part of the church. But their needs go beyond the spiritual. They need jobs, food, places to live.

Michael reaches out to them, even though he’s not going to be around long enough to make much difference. As soon as he sells the church’s acreage, he’ll be gone. But then God gives him an idea. The Karen people were farmers back in Burma. What if they farmed the land the church owned? They could grow their own food, sell the extra produce and maybe even help raise money to pay off the church’s debt.

That’s exactly what happened. It’s not what Michael Spurlock expected; it’s not what his superiors had asked for; it’s not at all what he’d been assigned to do. Except it’s exactly what God wanted.

That really spoke to me because there have been times in my own life I’ve ended up doing something I totally didn’t expect, something I couldn’t even have imagined. Flash back to the first half of my life. Not long after I was born in Wheeling, West Virginia, my parents moved our little family to California. They split up when I was two, and my mom and I took the train back to Wheeling to live with her mother. It was a great place to grow up. I went to a small Catholic school with the same 13 kids from first through eighth grade, then the Catholic high school on the same block. Everybody knew everybody.

Weekdays and Sundays I served as an altar boy at St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a big beautiful place with a dome, mosaics, a massive pipe organ and an immense circular stained-glass window. I got up at 5 a.m. to do my paper route, then rushed to church. Altar boys had to be on their toes, putting on vestments, stacking hymnals, arranging the wafers, filling the water and wine cruets, lining up the bells. No sleeping on your feet. By the time I was 15, I’d worked so many funerals that an open casket hardly fazed me (being slipped a fiver as a tip wasn’t so bad either).

I learned self-discipline as an altar boy. It was good training for a guy who would end up making movies—not that I had the slightest inkling of my path back then.

I figured I’d just stick around Wheeling after high school and get a job. I wasn’t cut out for college; I was a C or D student at best. My dad drove out from Southern California for my high school graduation. He asked me what I planned to do with my life. I shrugged. I didn’t know.

“If you ever want to work in the steel industry,” Dad said, “I can help you find a job.” He was a welder. “Just let me know.”

“Sure,” I said, never thinking I’d take him up on it. I’d grown up all the way across the country, so I didn’t really know him well.

A couple of months later, making only $2.65 an hour as a delivery boy, I found the offer more tempting. Maybe I should try California. Maybe a job like Dad’s would be just the ticket. I drove out there with some buddies. I didn’t even tell my dad I was coming. In fact, I didn’t even know where he lived, just the name of the town. Bellflower.

I took a bus to Bellflower. I went to a phone booth outside a Laundromat, looked up “John M. Corbett” in the book and found his address. There was a guy putting laundry into his hatchback. I told him the address and asked, “Can you tell me where this is?”

“About a mile from here.” He started to give me directions, but he must have seen how clueless I was. “Let me take you there,” he said.

I got in his hatchback, and he drove to a small two-bedroom house. I knocked on the door. My dad and his wife welcomed me in, and I stayed for a year. True to his word, Dad got me a job at Kaiser Steel in Fontana. Soon I was earning more money than I’d ever dreamed, clocking 60-hour weeks. I had a nice apartment, nice clothes and plenty of money to go out with my buddies. The work, though, was grueling.

John and the cast of All Saints filmed at the Smyrna, Tennessee,
church where the actual story took placeI was a hydrotester. Kaiser made huge pipes headed for the Texas oil fields, and my job was to make sure the welds were tight. We pumped thousands of pounds of water through them to see if there were any cracks. We couldn’t do it without getting drenched ourselves. We worked 10-hour shifts, testing a pipe a minute. Which meant getting soaked 60 times an hour.

I wanted to believe there was something else out there for me, something I was meant to do, but I had no idea what it was. Year in, year out, I stuck it out in that open-ended factory, freezing in the winter, when the wind howled down the San Bernardino Mountains, sweltering in the summer.

Then one day some pipes came off the assembly line and hit me in the back. Next thing I knew, I was on disability, walking with a cane, popping painkillers.

Manual labor was out of the question. What was I going to do with myself now? “Why don’t you go to community college?” Dad said. “Take some classes. Get a degree.” I’d been such a lousy student. What purpose would college serve? Then again, it wasn’t as if anything else was jumping out at me.

The first week at Cerritos College went okay. The second week, the assignments came. Read eight chapters by tomorrow. Write a five-page paper. I was completely lost. One afternoon I stayed in the cafeteria long after everybody else left, totally disheartened. College was a dead end for me. Twenty-four years old and I had no future.

I finished my chicken burger and was picking at some French fries when a few guys came in and sat at the other end of the long table, 18-year-olds just out of high school. They were joking around. I made some jokes back. They laughed and scooted over to me. I asked what classes they were taking. “Acting,” they said. Who knew there were acting classes at Cerritos?

“We’ve got an improv class next,” they said. “Wanna come?”

“Your teacher won’t mind?”

“No. Come on.”

I grabbed my cane and hobbled after them. They took me to a theater that was like a black box: black bleachers, black floor, black floor-to-ceiling curtains and a small performing area. It had a mysterious, almost mystical feel. The instructor walked in. Georgia Well was her name. My new friends introduced me. “This is John. Okay if he stays?”

“Sure,” she said. I watched one improv after another. I’d never been around anything like this! It was as if a whole new world opened up to me, a world I longed to be a part of, a world where I sensed I belonged. It was as clear as anything I’d ever gleaned from those hours on my feet at St. Joseph’s, listening to the priest.

To my surprise, Georgia Well asked if I wanted to do an improv. I knew enough to know I had to say yes, yes to a new purpose for me, a new understanding of myself. I wanted to be here, take acting classes, learn to do all the things my new friends did, perform in plays (not that I’d ever seen one).

I dropped my other classes and signed up for all the acting classes at Cerritos. Within a month, I’d landed a role in the campus production of Hair. My dad’s jaw just about dropped to the floor when he saw me on stage singing. Everything on his face said, I didn’t know you could do this. I didn’t know I could do it either!

That’s what happens when you follow God’s lead and do what brings you joy. I didn’t need the cane or the painkillers anymore. Healing came from the work I was doing, the friends, the new passion I’d discovered. I’m the least likely guy to end up in several hit TV series, let alone star in a Hollywood movie. Me, a blue-collar kid from West Virginia. But when I look back, I can see how the altar boy duties, the paper route, Dad’s finding me a job at a steel mill, even the debilitating back injury brought me to where I am now.

Still, I can’t help asking myself, What if I hadn’t been sitting in the cafeteria that day? What if I hadn’t gone with those guys to that improv class?

I’ve learned, like the priest I play in All Saints, that when God sends a suggestion our way, the best thing we can do for ourselves is say yes.

For more inspiring stories, subscribe to Guideposts magazine.

Jen Bricker’s Miraculous Family Reunion

Eight-year-old Jen Bricker was glued to the television. It was 1996 and the second-grader and her parents were in their living room, not wanting to miss a single minute of the Summer Olympics, broad­casting live from Atlanta.

Her eyes widened as 14-year-old gymnast Dominique Moceanu soared, flipped and twisted through the air, becoming the youngest American athlete ever to win a gold medal. It was Dominique’s appear­ance, however—her caramel-tinted skin and big, dark eyes; her small, powerful frame—that was transfixing. No one in tiny Hardinville, Illinois, had that look. No one except Jen. She felt as if she were watching herself.

“I was infatuated with her, practically obsessed,” Jen recalls today. “Not only did she look like me, but she had the same fiery personality and we both loved gymnastics.”

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Dominique’s parents had been born in Romania, the same country Jen’s birth parents had emigrated from before she was put up for adop­tion at three months old. That sum­mer evening, Jen set her sights on following in Dominique’s footsteps. The gold medalist would become her role model. Jen would do whatever it took to excel in gymnastics. A dream she was so intent on achieving that she ignored the most obvious differ­ence between her and her idol.

Jen had been born without legs.

From the moment Sharon and Gerald Bricker brought Jen home, they were determined their infant daughter could accomplish anything she set her mind to. “They didn’t see me as different,” Jen says. “They raised me to be strong and confident. That’s how I always saw myself.” Sharon and Gerald had desperately wanted a baby girl to add to their family of three boys. But a hysterectomy ended Sharon’s dream of having another baby. She asked God for a miracle.

Not long after, a friend who was looking to adopt told her about a baby being cared for by a foster family an hour away. The infant was as cute as a button, but her legs had never formed in the womb. The friend didn’t feel able to raise a child with such challenges—no doubt the same reason the baby had been put up for adoption in the first place. But the story touched Sharon. When the Brickers met the baby, all they saw was her smile. “My mom knew right then that I had to be their daughter,” Jen says.

At Jen’s first well-baby checkup the doctor suggested she would nev­er be able to sit up or crawl. She would need to be carried everywhere. Sharon and Gerald sought a second opinion. They took Jen to a specialist at Shriners Hospitals for Children in St. Louis, Missouri. “Mr. and Mrs. Bricker, this little girl is going to do things you never imagined possible,” the doctor told them.

Soon Jen was into everything, like any toddler, crawling around as fast as her arms could carry her. Her mom affectionately nicknamed her “Mouse.” By the time Jen reached second grade, Sharon had enrolled her in beginner gymnastics classes.

She excelled at the sport. Even more so after those ’96 Olympics, when the Magnificent Seven, as the U.S. gymnastics squad was known, became the first American women gymnasts to win gold as a team. For Jen it was an Olympics she would never forget.

Two years later, Jen placed fourth at the Junior Olympics in the all-around. Trophies and medals accu­mulated in her bedroom. She didn’t think a lot about her birth parents or the circumstances that had led them to give her up. “I was always meant to be a part of the Bricker family, my mom told me,” Jen says. “God just chose another way to bring me to them.”

READ MORE: JEN BRICKER—FLIPPING THE WORLD UPSIDE DOWN

That was always enough for Jen, until just before she turned 16. A friend who had also been adopted found out the names of her birth parents. Jen couldn’t help but grow curious about her own.

Sharon was folding laundry one day when Jen came home from school and blurted out what was on her mind: “Mom, do know who my birth parents are?”

Sharon hesitated. She wasn’t sup­posed to know, but she did. In fact, she’d kept it a secret for more than eight years, ever since that night in ’96, when she sat beside her daugh­ter watching those Olympic Games. She’d been as transfixed by the gym­nastics competition as her young daughter—though for an entirely dif­ferent reason.

Legally, Jen’s birth records should have been closed, but once the adop­tion was finalized, Sharon reviewed all the paperwork she’d received and noticed a document with Jen’s birth parents’ signatures. A clerk had mis­takenly included it. At the time, Sha­ron simply filed it away, knowing that one day Jen would likely ask about her birth family, and the answers would begin there.

At the gymnasts’ introductions, Sharon’s heart skipped a beat. The TV cameras focused on a couple cheering on their daughter from the stands. Their names flashed on screen. Names that sparked a mem­ory of the signed document. After she tucked Jen into bed, Sharon went to check. The document con­firmed her suspicions.

Jen’s birth parents were Dmitry and Camelia Moceanu. Dominique Moceanu, the young gold medalist, was Jen’s sister.

“I was like, ‘Wow! This is crazy! Full-on crazy…’” Jen says. For years she’d marveled at her likeness to her idol. Now it all made sense. Jen learned that the Moceanus had moved to the United States before Dominique was born. She had a younger sister too—Christina.

Jen wanted to connect, but how? An uncle who worked as a private investigator located her birth father. Dmitry wasn’t ready to meet her, and he was fiercely protective of his other daughters. They hadn’t been told they had another sister.

Finally, when Jen was 20 years old, she decided to write a letter to Domi­nique directly, hoping that she would want to know.

“Ever since I was six years old, I’ve been obsessed with gymnastics and I always watched you on TV. You have been my idol my whole life. I feel that I have one chance to prove to you that I’m not some crazy person.…”

Along with a photo, she enclosed copies of her adoption papers and the document with the Moceanus’ signatures. She sent the letter by registered mail, grilling the postmas­ter to make sure only Dominique would be able to sign for it.

Two weeks passed. No response. Then a Christmas card arrived with a letter inside. D. Moceanu, the return address read.

Jen devoured every word, but one sentence jumped out: “You’re going to be an auntie!” Dominique was expecting a baby. “Auntie”—with that single word, Jen was welcomed into the family.

Jen, Dominique, and Christina final­ly met at Dominique’s home in May 2008. “Instantly, from when we met, everything felt effortless,” Jen says. She was identical to her sisters in nearly every way—all three of them even had a butterfly tattoo.

The one big difference wasn’t so much of a difference after all. The older sister who had once held eight-year-old Jen spellbound was just as enthralled by the sister she never knew. A girl who despite her “disability” had es­tablished a remarkable career of her own, performing as an acrobat and aerialist on tour with Britney Spears and on stages worldwide, from Las Vegas to Dubai.

Jen’s birth father died of cancer before they could meet, but Jen did meet her birth mother. “She was proud of all the great things happen­ing in my life…. She knew she could never have given me any of them,” Jen says. “She couldn’t forgive herself for giving me up. I assured her that I was fine, that my life was happy and I was healthy…. This was always part of God’s plan.”

Jen Bricker: Flipping the World Upside Down

In the April/May issue of Mysterious Ways, we told you the incredible story of world-renowned aerialist and acrobat Jen Bricker, who was born without legs and put up for adoption as a baby. Only as a teenager did she discover—through a miraculous series of events—that she already knew her birth family.

Contributing Editor Ginger Rue spoke to Jen about her bestselling book, Everything Is Possible, and the young woman’s inspiring journey to achieve her dreams and discover her surprising roots.

In your book, you give a lot of credit for your confidence and enthusiasm to the way your parents brought you up. Can you tell us about how they did it?

It wasn’t like they said, “Even though you don’t have legs, we’re going to raise you this way.” It wasn’t put that way; it was just how it was. I was Jen. I was strong. I was confident. That’s what they told me. That’s what they believed. And that’s just how it was. They didn’t see me as different, and it was just, period….it was just normal.

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Were your parents always open with you about the fact that you were adopted?

Yes. One day, when I was little, I asked, “Mommy, do you think my parents gave me up because I didn’t have legs?” And her answer made perfect sense to me and still does. She said, “Jennifer, Mommy’s tummy was broken, and God found you a really nice lady with a nice tummy so she could hold you until I could get to you.”

How did you become interested in gymnastics?

I started beginner classes in second grade. My mom talked to the teacher, and the teacher said, “Well, of course I’ve never had a student without legs, but I’ll try,” and she did. And we did all the work. I had a couple of coaches, and everyone worked really well together, and they were such champs and took it all in stride. We had such good collaboration.

And your passion for gymnastics led you to take an interest in the 1996 Olympics when you were eight years old?

We’d always watched the Olympics as a family. We loved it, all of us. And so the gymnastics competition was on television, so we were watching it, and everyone in my family was excited about it. I already loved gymnastics, so I was especially interested. But then when I saw Dominique Moceanu, it felt like a light bulb went off in my head. I was just drawn to her.

Since my parents had always been so open about my adoption, I already knew that I was Romanian, like Dominique. I had always been so proud of the fact that I was Romanian because I grew up in a town with very little diversity. I had a dark tan and big dark eyes, so I didn’t look like most people in my town…but I looked like this gymnast at the Olympics!

She was so tiny, and so am I. We both had that small frame. When I saw how alike we were, it was exciting to see someone who looked like me. I was really infatuated with her and excited that we looked alike. Also, she had the same fiery personality, and we both loved gymnastics.

READ MORE: JEN BRICKER’S MIRACULOUS FAMILY REUNION

How did your mom figure out that Dominique was a lot more than just your role model?

Legally, my adoption was supposed to have been a closed adoption. I wasn’t supposed to know who my birth parents were. But God was working overtime. He made sure that the social worker made a clerical error and gave my parents all that information.

After seeing Dominique’s parents on television at the Olympics, my mom went back and looked at the adoption papers and looked at their last name and the fact that I had a sibling six years older.

How did you react when your mom finally told you—Dominique was your biological sister?

I was, like, “Wow! This is crazy! Full on crazy and amazing!” I asked my parents, “How did you guys keep it a secret? It must’ve been so hard for you!” I understood why she didn’t tell me right away. I was so young…I mean, what was I going to do with that at, like, eight years old? It wouldn’t have made any sense to me.

Also, Dominique went through public emancipation from our biological parents, so my parents knew that all the way around, for everybody, it wasn’t the right timing to tell me everything. My parents said that when I was growing up and would talk about Dominique and they knew she was my sister, they would just look at each other across the room and kind of shake their heads.

I respect them for keeping that information until I was ready to learn it because that was not easy, but in this instance, it was really the right thing to do. But when they told me, I went to Dominique’s website and discovered that I had a younger sister, too…Christina. And so I was, like, “Oh, my gosh! I have two sisters and I want them to know about me.”

Once you knew Dominique was your sister, how’d you proceed?

It wasn’t as easy as picking up a phone. It took four years and several failed attempts. My uncle Gary, a former private investigator, reached out to my biological parents. My biological father wasn’t very receptive, but he did admit that he and his wife gave up a child for adoption. But he made it clear he wanted to keep the secret and he wasn’t going to help me contact my biological sisters.

So I switched my game plan and planned to contact Dominique instead. My uncle tracked down Dominique’s address in Ohio for me. I wrote her a letter. I was very careful and methodical and put a lot of thought into what to say and how long the letter was going to be.

I just wanted Dominique and Christina to know I was serious and authentic, so I included the adoption papers in the letter so they could see the signatures of our biological parents, and I also sent pictures. I just wanted to cover all my bases. I was serious and just very direct, and just like, “You know, I found out, and I just want you to know that I’m legit, and here’s my number, and I’ll even take a DNA test.”

I kept the letter just over one page: I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too long. I included everything I had for proof in the package, so it was undeniable.

How long did it take to hear back?

At the end of two weeks, I thought, “I’m going to have to prepare mentally for them not responding.” It felt like an eternity to get a letter back from Dominique, but she sent me a Christmas card with a letter inside. In the middle of the letter, Dominique had written, “You’re about to be an auntie!” She was finishing up college and getting ready to have her first baby. And the next day, she and Christina sent me flowers. It was amazing.

READ MORE: HOW A HEARTBREAKING STORY INSPIRED HOPE

In the letter you wrote Dominique, you didn’t mention not having legs. Why not?

I thought maybe that would be a bit much to find out at the same time she was learning she had a long-lost sister. When we talked on the phone after exchanging letters, I told her. I could tell she was trying to process and respond in an appropriate way. She said, “Oh, oh…wow, no, I really didn’t know that.” Then she asked when the three of us could meet.

Were you nervous about meeting your sisters in person?

When I sent the letter, I did think, “What if she and Christina reject me? What if they don’t want anything to do with me?” But after we’d exchanged letters and talked, I didn’t think she would reject me. I was, like, “Man, I wonder if she will think this is weird?” when I went out to meet her and Christina.

I was in Florida, and Christina was in Texas, and we were both flying in to Ohio where Dominique was. So I was flying to her, and I was the outsider coming in, and they were going to have to put my wheelchair in the car and all that. I just didn’t want that to be awkward for her.

I don’t know why I thought it would be, but it wasn’t at all. Instantly, from when we met, everything felt effortless. My not having legs was the last of anyone’s worries.

How is your relationship now with your sisters?

Of course, it’s an evolution, and it just keeps growing. It’s something where…you really have to work at a relationship. Domi and Christina had a rough childhood during which they learned to rely on each other. As a result, they’re always going to be closer, and I have to be okay with that.

I’ll admit I was a little jealous at first. They had inside jokes. They had memories. They were raised totally differently than I was raised. Then we came into each other’s lives as adults. For example, I was the baby of three brothers. I was the baby with my adoptive family, but with my biological sisters, I was the middle child.

So there’s a totally different dynamic in every single way, and they already had their own dynamic before I came into the picture. You just don’t know until you’re in it, and you have to work through it. You have to put in the time just like in any relationship. I’m traveling like a maniac, they both have kids, we are spread out across the U.S. It just takes work.

How do you feel about your biological father now?

When all three of us sisters met for the first time at Dominique’s home, our father, Dmitry, was still alive. But he died of cancer later that year. He knew the three of us were meeting, and I wondered how he felt about that. I was told that at the end of his life, he made amends with his whole family and even told my sisters he wanted to meet me. Unfortunately, he died before that ever happened.

READ MORE: PERFECT STRANGERS, DESTINED TO BE FRIENDS

When they all found out about me, he was the first person to say, “I really want to meet her.” To me, that is so profound. I really just think, as crazy as it sounds, that we would’ve gotten along really well because by the time I would’ve met him, he would’ve been a different person. I think we would’ve gotten along.

It makes me smile, but I can’t help it—that’s how I feel. You can’t hold onto the past and something someone did twenty years ago, and obviously, I was supposed to be adopted, so let’s move on and not dwell on that. My parents set that tone when I was a kid: not having bitterness towards my biological family.

How are things with your biological mom?

I met her for the first time in 2009 at Dominique’s home in Ohio. I showed her videos of me performing with Britney Spears and pictures of my acrobatic and aerial routines. She was proud of all the great things happening in my life. She told me she knew she never could have given me any of them.

I sensed a great deal of sadness even when she smiled. No matter how much I assured her that I was fine, that my life was happy and I was healthy and everything was good, she couldn’t forgive herself. But she’s a woman of faith and that will get her through. She believes in God, and He’ll help her realize she’s not to blame and this was always part of His plan for me.

How has this whole experience of finding out about and connecting with your biological family changed you?

I think it’s a process; it’s not done. It’s a forever process. Experiencing a family that’s totally different than your own, you’re going to learn things. I just had never been around families that operated or thought so opposite of mine.

I was raised with a mindset of open doors, the more the merrier, and they were raised with closed doors, nobody comes in. So it was hard to understand them, and the same for them understanding me. So I think, coming from different ends of the spectrum, you’re going to experience new things.

How has all of this impacted your faith?

I think my faith grew more before I actually met my sisters, because it took a lot of trust for me to believe that I was going to meet them one day, and it took four years. So I had to have faith that one day it would actually happen. It taught me perseverance.

Having something take four years—especially I was younger and completely one hundred percent impatient—I mean, patience has never been a strong quality of mine! Now it’s like, OK, having something take years? I can deal with that. It makes more sense to me now that something can take years. Of course I still want things quickly, but I’ve been through this, so now I know how to be in something for the long haul.

What’s next for you?

I’ve been performing as an aerialist and acrobat for almost nine years, traveling the world, and also traveling the world as a speaker. My book made The New York Times bestseller list on October 1st, which was my birthday, so that was pretty amazing! I plan to do more books, and I’d also like to get into the beauty and health industry. Getting into beauty would be an untapped world for someone like me.

I’d like to be on the cover of magazines; I think that would be groundbreaking and powerful, and I think people are ready for it now. It’s been on my heart for several years but people weren’t ready before now. No one like me has been on the cover of fashion and beauty magazines, but I’m ready to shake things up and flip them upside down!

Book cover for Everything Is PossibleJen Brooker is the bestselling author of Everything Is Possible: Finding the Faith and Courage to Follow Your Dreams, published by Baker Books, 2016.

It’s Time to “Fall Back,” and Move On

One of my favorite observances of the year is almost upon us. Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and Christmas and Chanukah are on the horizon, but I’m not talking about those. I’m talking about going back in time.

That’s right. At the wee hour of 2 a.m. on Sunday morning, we’ll all experience a taste of what Marty McFly did in Back to the Future. We’ll turn back the clock one hour and get to live it all over again.

Except for Hawaii and Arizona. If you reside there, you don’t get to jump in the time machine.

Of course, in reality, all most of us get from switching daylight savings time to standard time is an extra hour of sleep before we wake up for church or football the next morning. But when Sandee Jackson from Burlington, North Carolina tried to turn her clocks back, she encountered something quite unexpected. Something incredible. Something she desperately needed in that moment. You can read her story here: Hands of Time.

For me, Sandee’s story makes me wonder whether there’s a bit more to “falling back” than just getting more sunlight in our winter afternoons. Maybe it’s an occasion we should use to remind ourselves about how precious the hours of our days are, and while we can’t really live any of them over again, we can live each new one to its fullest.

Italy’s Cathedral of Trees

I’m amazed by all of God’s wonders around the world, but I’ve always been especially drawn to trees. I’ve written before about a weeping beech that captured my heart while I was in college.

And, when I’m out and about, I love taking photos of trees. I even draw them! In fact, if you took a look at my desk, you’d find sticky note after sticky note with doodles of branches and roots. There’s just something amazingly beautiful and spiritual about trees, don’t you think?

So I was practically jumping out of my seat when I stumbled upon this very unique cathedral in northern Italy. It’s called the Tree Cathedral and, yup, it’s made entirely of trees!

“Cattedrale Vegetale” was designed by artist Giuliano Mauri. And, spoiler alert, it’s completely breathtaking. It has 42 “tree columns” constructed from more than 2,000 branches and poles that were woven together.

Over time, the trees will form the more-finished structure of a five-aisle basilica, one to rival the most stunning churches of Rome and Florence. The BBC calls it “an evolving structure”:

“Since these man-made columns will eventually deteriorate, a single beech tree has been planted inside each column. After several years, the trees will eventually outgrow the structure, creating a completely natural wall and roof.”

I think the reason I love trees so much is because I see myself in them. The way their branches stretch out towards Heaven, like arms reaching for God. And I certainly can see myself in the Tree Cathedral.

I too am ever-evolving. God is constantly at work on me, building in me a sturdy structure. One that can’t be shaken by the elements. He’s not done with me yet. But when his work is complete?

Maybe it’ll be as beautiful as a cathedral made entirely of trees.

What about you? Which of God’s natural wonders have captured your heart? Share your wonders and photos below!