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‘The Star Thrower’ and the Difference You Can Make

In 1978, author Loren Eiseley published an essay called “The Star Thrower.” It recounts a beach walk by a narrator...

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3 Mysterious Stories of Divine Phone Calls

Posted on by The Editors

Linda LaPlante from Norway, Michigan

I was sitting by my mother’s hospital bed, comforting her in her last moments. It was bittersweet. I was glad to be by her side—a chance I hadn’t had when my father died three years earlier—but I was heartbroken at the same time. I looked in my purse for my cell phone to find some soothing music to play—a request she’d made while she was still lucid. It took me a minute to find the device. I dug it out of my bag and opened the music app.

When I had the music playing softly, I took Mom’s hand. “I’ll always love you,” I said to her. “Don’t be afraid to move on. You’ll be with Dad again. You—”

A jarring ringtone cut off the music. Unbelievable! It had to be a wrong number. Friends knew not to disturb me now. I sent the call to voicemail without even looking at the screen. Moments later, Mom’s breathing slowed, then stopped. We’d said our last goodbye.

At home alone hours later, I remembered that I’d forwarded calls from my home phone to my cell. I checked my landline’s missed calls to see who had interrupted such an important moment with Mom. I recognized the number immediately—and the name that went with it: G Butterfield. My father’s name and number. It was Dad, calling Mom home.

Kay Ferrell from Greenville, North Carolina

With my arms full of groceries, I struggled up the steps of the back porch and into the kitchen. As I set everything down, I reached for my cell phone in my back pocket—and realized I’d somehow made a call. My phone was dialing my friend Jennifer. She picked up before I had the chance to hang up the call.

“Sorry!” I said, fumbling with the phone to bring it to my ear. “I must’ve pocket-dialed you. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Actually, it’s no bother at all,” she said. “Just the opposite, in fact. My daughter is sick with a terrible virus. I wanted someone to pray with, but I wondered who to call…”

Jennifer got her answer—and all the prayers she needed for her daughter to make a quick recovery.

Nancy Bland from Chambersburg, Pennsylvania

I’d just returned from running errands and saw I had one new message in my voice mail. I pressed play and heard a gravelly voice I didn’t recognize. The man had a slight Southern accent. He introduced himself as Bud and said he was looking for someone named Janet, then he left a phone number with a Virginia area code. I hope it’s not important, I thought, because Janet won’t get this message…

“I’m looking forward to seeing you and Ben,” the message ended.

Huh, that’s funny, I thought. I actually knew a Janet whose husband’s name was Ben. I’d just seen her earlier at Bible study. She was looking forward to hosting some friends from Texas.

Janet. Ben. Could it be…? What were the chances Janet’s friend would call me? Plus, what about that Virginia area code?

At the risk of looking silly, I gave Janet a call. “Have your guests arrived yet?”

“No,” she said. “They ought to have arrived by now, but they haven’t even called.”

“This is going to sound completely random,” I said, “but one of them wouldn’t happen to be named Bud, would he?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Janet said. “Why?”

I told her the story and gave Janet the Virginia telephone number, just in case. It turned out that Bud and his wife were running late, and they had decided to spend the night in Virginia before heading to Janet’s house the next day. They didn’t want her to worry about them. And even though Bud had dialed the wrong number, thanks to a divine operator, Janet got the message.

3 Mysterious Stories of Divinely Crossed Paths

Posted on by The Editors

It seems incredible, but what if we had the chance to share in our loved ones’ journeys from this life to the next? In a mystical phenomenon known as a shared-death experience, people report that they have been given the chance to see into life after life as a dying family member or friend passes. Whether it’s a glimpse of heaven or an inexplicable visit from the person who is on the way there, these amazing encounters bring comfort, closure and evidence of the wonder that exists beyond.

The Dream Kim Carroll from Panama City, Florida

For two weeks, my 82-year-old mother had been hospitalized with Covid-19. It was agonizing not being able to be with her and comfort her through her illness. It was touch-and-go for a while, and I worried that she might pass away without me by her side. Finally, her doctor called one afternoon and let us know that Mom was well enough to be transferred from the ICU to a rehab facility. I would be able to see her the next day.

That night, knowing that Mom was on the mend, I drifted off to sleep easily for the first time since she got sick—and was transported somewhere else. A room took shape around me. I recognized this place. It was the den of my childhood home. I was sitting next to my mother, who was in a hospital bed. My brother, Chuck, sat across from me. We were playing cards, something we’d all loved doing together when Chuck and I were kids. Mom, who was normally a very serious person, looked relaxed and joyful.

Mom looked up from the game and caught my gaze. “This is the happiest day of my life,” she said. Chuck and I laughed. How could this be the happiest day of her life?

Then something behind me caught Mom’s attention. She looked off over my shoulder, her expression radiating wonder. “Tell your friends it’s all true,” she said. What was she looking at? I didn’t turn around. I just looked at Mom’s face, and then I woke up.

My alarm had gone off . I sat up in bed, the experience still lingering. Just a dream, I thought. It was odd, though. I truly felt like I had just been sitting with Mom. Like we’d had a visit. And that whatever she’d seen over my shoulder had been too profound, too amazing for me to understand just yet.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen. My husband handed me a cup of coffee. “You have the strangest look on your face,” he said. I tried to explain but was interrupted by the phone ringing. It was the hospital.

“Your mother took a turn for the worse last night. She is about to pass,” said the nurse on the phone. “A nurse from your church is with her. She isn’t alone…”

But deep down, I knew that. Even though I wasn’t there with her physically, I’d been given a chance to be with her in spirit and to see her joy as she entered heaven.

The Vision Sheila O’Connor Dixon from Daytona Beach Shores, Florida

My boyfriend, Bobby, and I had been together only nine months when we learned the shocking news that he had terminal colon cancer. Bobby was 38 years old and seemed so healthy. He was an adventurous, outgoing guy who loved the outdoors. We spent all of our free time together going to the beach, swimming at the pool and even taking a trip to St. Thomas in the Virgin Islands. It had been a whirlwind romance. And yet, while it was a short relationship, it was strong.

We decided Bobby should go up to Boston to be closer to his family and a better cancer clinic. I would stay at my home in Orlando and travel up on the weekends. Over the next few months, I did everything I could for Bobby and his family. I planned for his passing, took him to his favorite places and helped organize a peaceful vacation for everyone at Bobby’s family’s Cape Cod house.

Bobby had always been a tall, strong guy, but each time I came to visit, I noticed he was increasingly weak and frail. Toward the end, he was in near constant pain and struggling to keep down crackers and juice. He’d lost so much weight. My heart broke seeing him like that.

One day, when I was back at home in Orlando, I got a call from Bobby’s brother. “He doesn’t have much time,” he said. “Can you come up today?” I dropped everything and jumped on the next plane to Boston. When I arrived, Bobby’s whole family was there. His dad, siblings and nieces. Bobby was in his hospital bed, an oxygen mask on his face. He looked so small. I waved at him, went to his bedside and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back in recognition.

Each family member said their goodbyes to him and left the room until just his brother and I remained. Bobby had decided he wanted the two of us there when he passed. We both held his hands. The heart monitor’s beeping slowed, and then his breathing stopped. He was gone.

I looked toward the wall and saw something odd. First, it started to shimmer. Then a small tunnel appeared, stretching out before me, leading somewhere. Was I imagining things? I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. The tunnel was still there. I glanced over at Bobby’s brother. He didn’t seem to notice it.

Then I saw a person walking through the tunnel away from me. As he turned to look at me, I saw that it was Bobby. I almost didn’t recognize him. He looked completely restored to health. The way he was when I’d first met him. So full of life. With the biggest smile on his face, he waved goodbye to me and then continued through the tunnel. I looked ahead to the end of the tunnel and saw a field with trees bathed in the most beautiful light. Bobby stepped through, and the scene disappeared. But that image of him—healed, happy and in heaven—will stay with me the rest of my life.

The Visitor James Dee Watson from Comanche, Oklahoma

Saturday, I woke up with a severe stomachache. I was supposed to go visit my mother that weekend, but my wife insisted I go to the ER instead. I called Mom to let her know what was going on, and that I’d come see her once this was all figured out. “Let me know how it goes,” she said.

At the hospital, we learned that it wasn’t just a stomachache. I had two blood clots. Doctors immediately started emergency treatments to dissolve them. I was scared and in a lot of pain. On Sunday afternoon, I was wheeled downstairs for a sonogram. The technician momentarily excused herself from the room, pulling a curtain closed around the table I lay on.

A moment later, someone pulled back the curtain. It was my mom! I didn’t know she was coming to see me. She smiled and held her finger up to her lips before I could say anything. “I’ve spoken with the doctor,” she said, “and you’re going to be okay!”

She let the curtain fall in front of her and was gone. I laid my head back on the table and let out a sigh of relief. Mom was here and I was going to be okay. For the first time that weekend, I felt hopeful.

After the sonogram, I was wheeled back to the room where my wife and niece were waiting. I didn’t see my mom anywhere.

“Mom is here!” I told them. “She came down to the sonogram room and told me the doctor said everything was going to be okay.” My wife and niece looked at each other, then at me. My wife sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand.

“Honey, your mom isn’t here,” she said. “While you were in the sonogram room, we got a call from your sister. Your mom had a stroke earlier this morning. I’m so sorry…” She went on to explain that Mom was at the hospital near her house. Doctors said she had no brain activity. They were waiting for my sisters to get there to say goodbye. I took in the news, shocked and confused. How could that be? I had just seen her!

I was in critical care for two weeks, so I wasn’t able to go to my mom’s funeral. I think that’s why I got that final visit. It gave me closure. And her words kept me strong until I made a full recovery.

3 Mysterious Stories of Divine Hands at Work

Posted on by The Editors

As God says in Isaiah 41:10, “I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” In the amazing cases of these three Mysterious Ways readers, that righteous hand was a physical presence that brought them much-needed comfort, miraculous aid and spiritual healing.

Shirley Palmer from West Sparta, New York

I had breast cancer and needed an MRI. In the waiting room of the doctor’s office, I was filled with dread. I’d always struggled with claustrophobia, and the idea of being in a tiny space with no room to move, bombarded with the loud noise of the MRI machine, sent me into a panic. When the nurse called my name, I stood shakily. Dear Lord, please help me. I’m not sure I have the strength to get through this.

The MRI technician helped me onto the stretcher that went into the machine, all the while explaining what was going to happen. “I’ll be right over here,” she said, pointing to a small room with a glass window. I nodded. She walked to the room. The machine came on and moved the upper half of my body inside the machine. I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, my anxiety spiking.

Then I felt a hand take mine, warm and comforting. The technician must have noticed how nervous I was and came in to reassure me. How kind of her, I thought. I felt my body relax. My fear left me. As the machine clanged around me, I focused on the hand that held mine. When the MRI was done, the technician let go.

The machine slid me back out, and the technician helped me sit up.

“Thank you for holding my hand,” I said. “It really helped. It gave me the strength to get through this.”

The technician looked at me, confused. “I didn’t hold your hand,” she said. “I was over in that room the whole time. No one else was in here.”

Donna Griffith from Lafayette, Tennessee

Mom and I had always relied on one another. I worked at a fast-food restaurant, but before and after my shifts, she served me the best home-cooked breakfast and dinner a girl could want. Plus, she gave me expert foot rubs, which came in handy. But most of all I looked forward to our evening walks. One evening, we walked down the road to the first major intersection. “Look both ways before you cross,” Mom said.

“Always the mother hen,” I said. Always trying to take care of me. Just as I was always trying to take care of her. I wished there was someone to take care of both of us.

There weren’t any cars coming, so we stepped into the crosswalk. Halfway across the street, I heard tires screech. A sedan was barreling toward us! There was no time to run. “Jesus—” I said, bracing for impact.

That’s when I felt them: two strong hands on my upper arms. The car was so close I could make out specks of dirt on the shiny front grille. The hands lifted me up and pulled me backward, and I felt a rush of wind as the car passed right in front of me. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the sidewalk across the street, the cool concrete under my palms.

“Mom!” I yelled.

I expected to see her lying injured in the road. But she was sitting a few feet away from me on the sidewalk, looking bewildered. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Are you?”

“I’m fine. Someone picked me up right before the car hit and set me down over here. But how did you get away in time?”

“Whoever helped you somehow helped me too,” I said.

We looked around in every direction, but there was no one in sight. I was unsure about exactly what happened, but I’d never felt so cared for. Maybe there was someone else Mom and I could rely on.

Jennifer Van Allen from St. Petersburg, Florida

I sat in the lecture hall at a women’s retreat, weariness clouding my mind.

My friend had invited me to the all-day event, hoping it would help. I didn’t really want to be there.

My life wasn’t turning out the way I’d expected. I was single, struggling to pay my bills and living far from my family. Worst of all, it felt as if God wasn’t hearing me. I’d been praying for help, but nothing had changed. I felt lonely, disconnected and despondent.

The speaker finished up the lecture and announced a moment for prayer. “You can go anywhere in the building,” she said. I stood up and walked to a quiet alcove in the hallway where I could be alone. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, but I was all prayed out. I had nothing left to ask. I just existed in that moment.

After a minute, I felt a hand rubbing my back. It was healing, freeing. I didn’t want it to stop, so I dared not open my eyes. My loneliness and disappointment lifted, and all I could feel was peace. I felt loved. And I felt a hopefulness for the future. A smile spread across my face. I hadn’t smiled like that in a long time.

I don’t know how long I stood there. When I finally opened my eyes and looked around, no one was there. It took some time after that healing touch for things to change, but with every step, I remembered the heavenly hand that held me up at my lowest.

3 Miraculous Stories of Heaven-Sent Houses

Posted on by The Editors

Hebrews 3:4 tells us, “For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything.” This collection of house-hunting miracles reveals the work of the ultimate architect.

Marcy Tuttle Vedral from Prospect Heights, Illinois

My daughter and I were driving back to my house. We’d just viewed a townhome I didn’t like. I couldn’t see my husband, Bill, and I making a home there. It had been too small and different from what we had now. Plus, it didn’t feel welcoming. Not like our current place, where we’d lived for 43 years. We loved it there. The house was two stories with a nice, big kitchen. We’d even remodeled it to suit our taste.

But Bill and I were getting older, and it was becoming too hard to get around in a home with two levels. I had been diagnosed with late-onset muscular dystrophy, and Bill had just undergone back surgery. Though it was time for a one-story home, I didn’t really want to move. I was having a hard time staying open-minded.

Before we got home, my phone rang. It was my son-in-law. He’d heard about another one-story home that had just been put on the market that morning. I agreed to view it.

When we pulled into the subdivision, we recognized it immediately. It was the neighborhood in which my parents used to live. I had visited them there every day. We’d sold their house after they passed. We pulled up behind my son-in-law’s car in front of the listed address: my parents’ former home! He’d had no idea it was the exact house they’d lived in. It looked as if Bill and I would have a familiar place to call home after all.

Lorna McKinney Hall from Merritt Island, Florida

When my husband, Dan, and I began the search for a new home, one instantly came to mind: the ranch house on Cocoa Beach. We’d always admired the home, which was situated on a waterfront lot in the town next to ours. Something about it just drew us in. But it wasn’t for sale, and even if it were, its waterfront location would have put it out of our price range. Still, throughout our house hunt, it remained in the back of my mind.

One day, Dan found an ad in the newspaper: “House on an acre, finish it yourself.” It was within our price range, so we made an appointment to check it out. Even though it was only the barebones structure, it was clear it had the open, inviting layout we wanted. As we walked around, Dan got more excited. “This place has so much potential!” he said. I was a bit hesitant to take on such a project.

The owner chimed in. “The floor plan is based on a home I used to be a caretaker for,” he explained. “In fact, my old boss decided to tear down that home. He gave me the materials from that house to reuse for this project.”

He told us the address. It was the Cocoa Beach ranch house! Any doubts I had faded away. This was definitely the right house for us. It always had been.

Paula O’Donnell from Springfield, Missouri

When my husband, John, and I put our house on the market, it sold in one day, leaving us in a mad dash to find a new place to live.

I’d always dreamed of having a one-story, cream-colored house with black shutters, an open-concept kitchen, a big family room and a nice backyard. Most importantly, I hoped to live on a street in my friend’s neighborhood. It was beautiful and quiet, the exact setting I could see John and I settling down in. But our real estate agent assured me there was nothing for sale there. I knew it would be impossible to get a house with everything I wanted.

John and I walked through house after house with our agent, but the homes either weren’t going to work for us or were snapped up before we could make an offer. It was wearing us out. “Please find the right match for us,” I prayed one night after a particularly hard day of searching.

The next day, my agent called. “I have a house for us to check out that’s not on the market yet,” she said. She knew the homeowners, and they’d reached out to her before listing it to see if she knew anyone who was looking.

My heart leaped as we turned onto the very street where I’d always hoped to live, and we stopped in front of a home I had never noticed before. It was cream-colored with black shutters. Before we even set foot inside, I knew I’d find everything else I’d hoped for. Because with God, nothing is impossible.

3 Incredible Stories of Heaven-Sent Homes

Posted on by Elena Tafone

Home is where the heart is—but searching for the right place to call your own can be hard! It’s often a trying process, full of twists, turns, and lots of prayer. Of course, that only makes “home sweet home” that much sweeter when you do find it. Here are three stories of people who got some divine assistance during their house hunts.

How These Ivy Dishes Drew Their Family Together

Even before she was in the market for a house of her own, Sandy Clay had been collecting little knick-knacks to decorate one. Her most treasured were a set dishes. They were cream-colored and ringed with a beautiful pattern of ivy. Now, Sandy just needed a kitchen to put them in. But as she and her new husband toured house after house, that seemed less and less likely…

Read the rest of Sandy’s story here.

Our Dream House

While Susan Fawcett was used to living within her means, her dreams didn’t know that. One night, Susan dreamed she lived in a castle, one with a perfectly manicured rose garden and a pond filled with glittering koi fish. Then she woke up. She tried to put the dream from her mind, until her husband, Mark, asked her to go on a walk with him. He led her to a two-story house with “For Sale” sign was out front. “I saw it in the real-estate ads yesterday,” Mark explained, “Something told me we should come see it.”

Find out what happened next here.

Heavenly Touches Make This House a Home

It was the plainest house Kathie Kania had ever seen. But it was the only rental in the area. Kathie had always lived in comfortable, quaint homes. She grew up in an 1850s farmhouse with a wood-burning stove. It was quirky—the wavy wood floors, glass bubbles in the windowpanes, the slanting windows in the attic. Even the closets were unique. One had a big, fat doorknob made of brass. Nothing like this new apartment Kathie and her husband had just moved into. As she drifted from room to room, Kathie grew more and more dejected. Until her eyes fell on one of the closet doors. What was it about this door? Something was familiar…

You can read Kathie’s story here.

3 Incredible Stories About Divinely Found Wedding Rings

Posted on by The Editors

For centuries, married couples have shown their commitment by exchanging rings. Gold or silver, the bands are a symbol. A circle has no beginning and no end—just like lifelong love.

It’s no wonder that losing a wedding ring can be so upsetting. And why finding it again can be nothing short of miraculous. Here are stories submitted by readers who lost their wedding rings, only to have them returned in incredible ways.

Thérèse Tinguely from Pinawa, Manitoba, Canada

I was at work at the library. One day, busy at the front desk, I happened to glance at my hand. My stomach dropped. My engagement ring was firmly on my finger, but the diamond was gone! The setting must have loosened after 30 years of wear. Panicked, I retraced my steps. No luck.

That stone represented all the love and memories my husband and I had shared over the years. I couldn’t imagine replacing it. So I did what any good Catholic would: I said a prayer to Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost things.

Two nights later, an odd thought popped into my head: Take a flashlight to work and look in the back room. I’d already searched there. But the thought kept nagging me.

I went to work early the next day, flashlight in hand, feeling a bit silly. Instead of reaching for the back room’s light switch, I turned on the flashlight and moved the beam along the floor, then up along the shelves. There was a twinkle of reflected light. Front and center on a middle shelf was my diamond. How it got there was a mystery. How I found it was not.

Sherry Neuharth from Yankton, South Dakota

The day I lost my wedding ring, I’d been making caramel corn. My husband, Curt, and I own a small business that makes gourmet popcorn. I’d been so busy working that day that I didn’t realize my ring was gone until I got home. I tried to remember where I’d been, where I could’ve lost it. There was no way it could be in one of the popcorn bags, right? I’d been wearing gloves the whole time. Still, I couldn’t find the ring anywhere. Lord, please, help me find my ring!

Curt and I sold the caramel corn at an art and craft show in Iowa. “I’ve lost my wedding ring,” I told customers. “If you find it in this bag and return it to me, you’ll get free popcorn for a year!” We sold more than 100 bags, but no one came forward. I was so disappointed.

We had about 40 bags left after the show, so we donated them to our church. A month later, our pastor called. Most of the bags had been given to a homeless shelter. The last one had been served at the church’s Christmas party. One of the secretaries was helping herself when she spotted a particularly shiny kernel at the bottom of the bowl. Except it wasn’t a kernel at all. It was my ring!

Makaylah Albrecht from Spokane, Washington

“My ring is missing!” My grandmother’s voice rang out over Deer Lake.

My cousins and I stopped splashing in the water and exchanged concerned looks. Nana had joined us for a swim in the lake near our family cabin in Washington State, where we all gathered every summer. Somehow Nana’s ring—which had been her mother’s wedding ring and left to Nana after her parents died—had slipped off in the water.

My father donned a snorkel and goggles and jumped into action. He swam back and forth, combing the shoreline for hours while Nana watched from the dock. Finally he emerged, empty-handed.

“I’m sorry, Mom. It’s gone.”

“I have faith I’ll see it again,” she said. “God will return my ring to me.”

But after a long summer of playing and diving in the lake, none of us had found the ring. We closed the cabin for the season.

The next year, back at the cabin, my cousins and I were out catching crawdads with a homemade trap. I dove into the lake with the trap under my arm. Once I reached the bottom, I picked up a rock to weigh down the trap. A glint of something gold, half-buried in the sand, caught my eye. Nana had been right. After all this time and against all the odds, here was her ring.

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3 Divine Mysteries Transcending Generations

Posted on by The Editors

Lonnie McAllister from Fayetteville, Arkansas

In 1954, when I was six years old, my family went on a road trip that has since become legend.

My parents, sister and I were driving from our house in Fayetteville, Arkansas, to Mom’s hometown in Texas. As night fell, we found ourselves on a deserted dirt road in Oklahoma, nearly out of gas. We hadn’t seen a service station in hours. It was getting late. My parents tried to hide their growing panic as the gas gauge crept toward empty, as empty as the road ahead of us.

Then a gas station appeared on the horizon.

It was run-down. Covered in vines, with crumbling concrete walls. If not for the immaculately uniformed attendant inside, we would have thought it was abandoned. What was it doing here, in the middle of nowhere? And why was it open so late? Dad was too relieved to question it. We filled up and were on our way.

The rest of our trip was uneventful. We took the same route back home. We came across that stretch of road in Oklahoma. We kept our eyes peeled for the service station. But we passed only empty fields. It was as if it had never been there at all.

Margaret P. Liebchen from Altavista, Virginia

Christmas Eve, 1944. My uncle Leonard was fast asleep aboard the troop ship SS Leopoldville. He was one of the more than 2,000 American soldiers aboard, all members of the Sixty-Sixth Infantry Division headed for France from England.

Suddenly, a massive explosion woke him. A German submarine had torpedoed the ship.

“You could see water coming up through the hold like a geyser,” he told us.

Uncle Leonard ran above deck in his long johns. Another ship in the convoy had already pulled up alongside the Leopoldville and was attempting to take on troops, but rough seas made it impossible.

“Some of the boys tried to jump, but it was too far. They fell between the two ships,” he said. The only option was to stay put. He found a life jacket and waited.

The SS Leopoldville sank in some three hours. Uncle Leonard and everyone else still aboard was plunged into the icy water of the English Channel. By the time help arrived, more than 700 had died.

But Uncle Leonard survived, thanks to the thick pair of woolen long johns he’d put on before bed that night. He swore he’d never worn the long johns to sleep—it was always too hot in the ship’s windowless berths—but that night, he felt compelled to.

They saved him from hypothermia as he awaited rescue. And while some might think it was luck, our family believes it was something more.

Dorothy Rieke from Julian, Nebraska

The morning of January 12, 1888, was unseasonably warm for southeastern Nebraska. So when the temperature plunged and a blizzard hit around 3 P.M., no one was prepared.

Schoolteacher Amelia Jones and her students were in trouble. Her one-room schoolhouse was quickly running out of wood for the stove that heated it. Amelia had no idea what to do. Then there came a pounding at the door. It was Mr. Jenson, the father of some of her students.

“Get the children,” he instructed. “I have extra blankets. My wagon and horses are outside.”

They boarded the wagon and set off. It was impossible to see. Snow swirled so densely that it was difficult to breathe. Please, God, save us, Amelia prayed.

The horses had the journey home memorized, and they got everyone back to the Jensons’ barn. But it was too cold to stay there; they had to walk the children to the Jensons’ house. How would they do that without losing each other in the storm?

Amelia’s eyes lighted upon a stray length of rope. It was just long enough for all the children to hold. Knowing the direction of the house, Mr. Jenson took the rope and led the group through the snow. Amelia brought up the rear. When they finally made it inside, Amelia sank to the floor, thanking God.

In what became known as the Children’s Blizzard of 1888, more than 200 people lost their lives—trapped in buildings without heat or caught outside in the cold, unprepared for the sudden shift in weather. But Amelia, my grandmother, lived to the ripe old age of 93. If it weren’t for the miracles that happened that day, I wouldn’t be here to share her story.

33 Days to a Miracle

Posted on by Diana Aydin

The other day, I was talking to my sister, Priscilla, about my miracles project–how I’m interviewing all those around me about God’s amazing wonders.

“Oh, you’ve gotta talk to my co-worker Crystal!” she said. “She has a great story.”

Sure enough, Crystal did have a great story. She loves surprises, and miracles are the best surprises of all. They come your way when you least expect them, she says. Like when her son, Izaiah, was born. Read on to discover the wonderful surprise Crystal received 33 days after his birth.

Name: Crystal Clark-Archer
From: Baldwin, NY
Occupation: Market Research Manager

How do you define a miracle?
A blessing that comes to you without warning and asks for nothing in return.

What’s the most miraculous thing that’s ever happened to you?
The pregnancy and birth of my son, Izaiah. My pregnancy was complicated. At six months, the doctor noticed that my fluid levels were extremely low. They admitted me and hooked me up to IVs. Three days later, I was discharged and told that I had to be on bed rest for the duration of my pregnancy and monitored twice a week. At the eight-month mark, I went to the doctor and they found a dip in the baby’s heart rate. They also noticed several blood clots in my eye, a clear sign of preeclampsia. At that point, the doctors told me I had to have a C-section.

After he was born, he had to stay in the hospital for 33 days. In that time, he had two hernia repair operations and two blood transfusions. He was connected to several IVs and had all kinds of machines attached to him. He also had a feeding tube that drained into his stomach because he had no suckling reflexes.

I cried for 33 days. Wow. I thank God for my little miracle every day.

What was the turning point?
Every time I wanted to take him home, they said, “No you can’t take him. You can’t take him.” I was praying so hard. I was ready to give up. Finally, I just gave it to God. All of a sudden, a calm came over me and I just said, “Pull yourself together, Crystal. You can’t keep looking down, you can’t keep crying, you can’t not eat. You’ve got to get yourself together.” I knew God didn’t bring me that far to fail me.

When I woke up the following day, I felt like a huge load had been lifted. My energy was higher than before. I was still sad but was able to deal much better. About a week later, when I checked on Izaiah in the NICU as I did every day, they said, “We thought you would be here already to pick him up.” I said, “Excuse me?” They said, “Izaiah’s discharge papers are ready and he is waiting for you to take him home!”

Looking back at the photos I took of Izaiah from the hospital, I think he was praying too…

Now it’s your turn to get in on all the miracle talk! Why do you think God surprises us with his wonder? Share your thoughts by commenting below.

31 Miracles for 31 Years–Part I

Posted on by Diana Aydin

Today is my birthday, and I’m 31 years old…eek!

Life is nothing like what I expected it would be when I was just a kid (for some strange reason, I always thought I’d have a perm once I hit 30!). God has surprised me with so many miracles along the way–things I could’ve never imagined.

So I decided to compile a list of the 31 wonders I’ve experienced thus far–some big, some small, some completely strange.

Here’s Part 1 of my list. (And here’s Part 2!)

1. First Steps on Christmas Eve–What better way to start this list than with my very first miracle from way back in 1984? I was born with a dislocated hip and had to wear a bulky cast for almost a year.

My parents worried that I’d have trouble walking. A few days before Christmas, my dad asked my mom what she wanted Santa to bring her. “I just want Diana to walk,” she said. You can find out what happens next here!

2. The Birthday Baby–When I was 8 years old, I had only one wish–that my aunt Elena, who was pregnant, would give birth on my birthday. She was due in August, and I couldn’t think of anything better that sharing a birthday with my new cousin.

“Sweetheart, that’s not how it works,” she’d laugh every time I pestered her about it. After all, her due date was August 18. That didn’t stop me from praying. And, surprise! Three minutes after midnight on August 8, my cousin Paul was born.

3. Trip of a Lifetime–In 2010, my family and I traveled to Israel with our church. It was unbelievable. For me, no place in the world can really compare to the breathtaking shores of the Sea of Galilee. I’ve never felt so at peace as I did walking the very spots Jesus once walked.

4. The Apartment Light–Have you ever had those nights where you simply can’t fall asleep? And every shadow or noise completely freaks you out? Two months ago, that’s exactly what happened to me. Exhausted, I glanced out my bedroom window. That’s when I noticed something peculiar.

Across the street, all the lights were on in the apartment directly overlooking mine. As far as I could tell, it was the only apartment that wasn’t completely dark in the entire building. Something about that was oddly comforting. I woke up multiple times after that, but the lights never went out in the apartment. Like someone was watching out for me all night long.

5. A Good Morning–I was discussing my list of miracles with my colleague Danielle, and she pointed out an obvious one. “Just the fact that you are healthy and happy and woke up this morning…that’s a miracle!” She’s right–I couldn’t have said it better myself.

6. A Miraculous MRI–When I was in middle school, I kept getting sick–I was nauseas, fatigued, just not myself. Doctors said I was fine. But my mom had this weird feeling that something was wrong. Against the doctors’ wishes, she pushed them to order an MRI.

The scan showed a benign tumor sitting in my brain. It was caught just in time, all thanks to my mom’s “weird feeling.”

7. Umbrellas in London–Two years ago, my sister Priscilla and I traveled to London. We got lost on our way to a market, but stumbled upon something truly remarkable instead. Read more about that wondrous moment here.

8. An Odd Push to the Right–I was driving to work one snowy morning, when my car slipped on a thick patch of ice in front of a traffic light. I lost control of the car and was headed straight toward the vehicle in front of me. I prayed like crazy.

And, just as I was about to hit it, my car swerved sharply to the right into an empty lane. Like someone had taken over the wheel.

9. Supernatural strength–I’m no stranger to illness, as you may be able to tell! Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with MS. I have a very mild case, but it’s been one of the biggest struggles I’ve faced in my 31 years.

Every time I want to give up, though, God equips me with this otherworldly, inexplicable strength to keep pushing on. MS is an illness that weakens the body. And yet, God has made me so much stronger at the same time.

10. The Jesus Bead–One Saturday, I walked into a dressing room and spotted something square sitting on the bench inside. Take a look at what I found here.

11. Aramaic All Around–My parents are from Turkey and most of my family speaks Aramaic, the language of Christ. (Unfortunately I only know a few words myself.) When I was younger, I sometimes wished we were more like the other families in my hometown. More “American”!

But, as I got older, I came to love our unique culture, especially the Aramaic language. There’s just something wondrous about being surrounded by the words of Christ wherever I go, even if I don’t always understand what my family is saying!

12. The Secret Santa–A few years ago, I participated in a Secret Santa gift exchange at work. My co-worker, Gino, asked me to help him pick out a gift for the person he picked. “I don’t know what to get,” he said. Gino and I were work friends but never really hung out outside the office. How could I say no, though? I love picking out gifts for people.

We went shopping after work and had a blast–I vetoed all his gift ideas! When it came time to exchange gifts the next day, I discovered that my Secret Santa was actually Gino. We’d been shopping for me the entire time. Well, we’ve been best friends ever since all thanks to that “random” Secret Santa pick.

13. Hidden Messages–God speaks in many, many ways. In fact, it seems like wherever I go, I uncover a message from him, whether it’s in a fortune cookie or on the sidewalk.

14. The Wedding Dress–In graduate school, everyone had to pick a writing theme for the semester. Most people chose politics or social issues. Me? I chose weddings!

It seemed like a silly subject compared to the more serious ones in class. But I followed my heart. And it actually led to one of my first published stories. That, in turn, led to a freelancing gig for a small newspaper. You never know where a seemingly “silly idea” from God might lead!

15. The Birthday Phone Call–After I finished graduate school, I couldn’t seem to find a writing job. It’d been seven months, and I was growing more and more frustrated. I was about to turn 25 and would no longer be covered under my parents’ insurance.

“Please, God,” I prayed. “Just give me a job by my birthday!” Well, at 4 pm on my 25th birthday, just as I was about to get on the subway, I got the call. A job offer that came just in time!

For more miracles, here’s Part 2 in this series.

What miracles stand out when you look back on your life? Share your miracles below!

12 Comforting Signs Sent from Heaven

Posted on by Rakeem Nelson

My two grown daughters and I threw our stuff into the car for a quick weekend getaway to Florida. Just us girls. Autumn volunteered to drive. I climbed in front next to her, and Amber sat in back. We snapped on our seat belts, and we were off. The three of us sang to the radio at the top of our lungs, happy to be free. We left all our cares behind.

It was a great trip until the skies opened up outside Beaufort, South Carolina, on I-95. Torrents of rain burst from the clouds. The windshield wipers were useless. “I have to pull over,” Autumn said. She tried merging into the far right lane, but trucks barreled past, slamming sheets of water onto our car. It was disorienting, then worse—the tires slid left and right. We were all over the road. Autumn fought to steady the wheel. The car spun out of control. We careened into a motor home. The girls jumped out of the car. My chest throbbed.

“Get out, Mom. Come on!” Amber cried. “We’re not safe here next to the car.”

“I can’t,” I said. “My chest…”

Autumn took out her cell phone: “There’s been an accident. Send an ambulance!”

Trucks whizzed by. Amber and Autumn pulled me out of the car and helped me lie on my back in the grassy area by the roadside. Rain poured down on my face. I had to calm myself. Maybe then the pain in my chest would go away. I closed my eyes.

The rain stopped abruptly. I looked up. A man held an extra-large umbrella over me, shielding me from the downpour. My girls were by my side. Other kind faces surrounded us. A woman pulled bandages from her bag to treat a cut over Amber’s eye. Someone draped an afghan over me. A woman knelt by my side. “I’m going to take your pulse,” she said.

Another woman gently held my other hand. She said no one in the motor home was injured, and help was on the way for us. “We’re here for you till then,” she said. “Your daughters are fine. You will be too.”

I relaxed. We were in very good hands. The woman who took my pulse mentioned she was a nurse. “How do you like that?” said the woman who held my hand. “So am I.” And the other woman who tended to Amber’s cut was an eye specialist. We couldn’t have asked for better care. Everyone who’d appeared so suddenly in the rain seemed to be dispatched from heaven.

The pain in my chest began to subside. EMTs explained I was probably just bruised from the impact of the seat belt. Tests at the hospital confirmed we had no serious injuries. We’d left all our cares behind, but we were in God’s care all the way.

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10 Tips for Receiving God’s Guidance While You Dream

Posted on by Sabra Ciancanelli

Throughout the Bible there are a number of instances where God uses dreams to guide and protect. From Joseph in Genesis to Solomon in 1 Kings 3:5, God speaks in dreams, in visions of the night, when deep sleep falls on people as they lie in their bed (Job 33:15). But what if you are someone who hardly ever remembers your dreams and when you do, you only remember confusing bits and pieces?

You can try these 10 tips to help you receive heavenly messages and problem-solving wisdom while you dream.

1. Turn off electronics at least a half hour before you go to bed. Instead use this time to quiet your mind.

2. Close your eyes and turn your question into a prayer like this: “Dear God, I need your guidance and divine instruction. Please help me with this problem while I sleep.”

3. Relax and leave the situation in God’s hands. Be confident that He hears and will answer you.

4. Use the snooze. Often the best time to remember your dreams is early morning, that fuzzy time right before waking. Linger in bed for 5 to 10 minutes. Don’t concentrate or try. Simply be open to hearing and remembering God’s wisdom.

5. Keep a dream journal. An inexpensive notebook by your bed is perfect. Write down anything at all that you remember. The more effort you put into remembering your dreams, the more dreams you’ll remember.

6. Be patient. Don’t expect results overnight. Of course, you might wake up with the answer on the first try, but if it takes longer, that’s completely normal.

7. Make it a habit. Get into the routine of turning off your TV or phone and turning to God in prayer. The more you practice the stronger you will get at remembering your dream life.

8. Trust that God will help you remember what is important in your dream. Even if you aren’t going through a tough time, or need guidance, your dream life can be a valuable and beautiful extension of your prayer life.

9. Remember that your dreams are very personal. If a dream confuses you, ask yourself what you think it means or how the dream made you feel. Look for ways that the dream can be used for healing and moving forward.

10. Thank God for His guidance and keep track of your answered prayer dreams in a special section in your journal. Over time you’ll be amazed how His counsel has improved the quality of your life.

10 Times God Spoke Through Food

Posted on by Diana Aydin

God speaks to us in many different ways, as our recent Mysterious Ways survey about God’s voice showed.

For example, I find that God often speaks to me through my stomach. Maybe because food is comforting. Or maybe because I’m always hungry! Whatever the reason, it seems like God is always sending me little messages through food.

As it turns out, I’m not alone. Many of our readers have experienced what you might call “food miracles.” So I decided to put together a list of some of the most delectable ones out there, both from myself and others.

Take a look at some of my favorite food miracles below. Plus don’t forget to share your own food “mysterious ways” in the comments field below!

Warning: Sweets feature quite prominently on this list. If you’ve given up sweets for Lent, I apologize in advance!

1.  A Pit Stop for Pie that Led to Love
This story from Mysterious Ways author Lois Warren Chenoweth proves that you should always listen to a pie craving…always!

“It was nine o’clock at night. I’d be home in 10 minutes. I wasn’t hungry. And yet…Pie. Stop for a piece of pie! I was overwhelmed by the desire for pie. I pulled into the parking lot of a diner. What was going on? Maybe I needed a treat. I’d spent the evening with friends and now was feeling lonely. I was 62, a widow of seven years. Everyone else had family to go home to. Not me. I went inside, sat at the counter, gave in and ordered a slice of blueberry pie.

Across the counter, I spotted Donna, a young woman I recognized from town. She was eating by herself too. I dug into my dessert and made chitchat. ‘My stepmom passed away a few months ago,’ Donna said.

‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear that,’ I said. We talked and talked until the last crumbs on our plates were gone. Three days later, I ran into Donna’s father at the post office. We were just acquaintances, but after my conversation with Donna I felt as though I had to say something. ‘I understand what you’re going through. If you ever need anything…’ We struck up a friendship, and eventually started dating. Two years later, we were married. I’m not lonely anymore. All thanks to that peculiar craving for pie.”

2.  The Tale of the Cronut Miracle
Here’s how a croissant/donut brought three co-workers together in a modern-day loaves and fishes type of miracle. Read the story here.

3.  A Lifesaving Hamburger Craving
A father stops on the road after getting a sudden craving for burgers from Hardee’s. And it’s a good thing he did… Read the story here.

4.  Two Chocolate Bars that Changed a POW’s Life
This story still leaves me saying, “Whoa!” And not just because it features two chocolate bars! Read the story here.

5.  The Great Klondike Bar Rescue
Check out this incredible story from Mysterious Ways author Roberta Messner about a nudge to buy ice cream that ended up saving a man’s life.

“Ice cream was melting in my car on East Pea Ridge Road. My sister, Rebekkah, and I were driving home from the supermarket when she received an important phone call that required her undivided attention. We pulled over; now Rebekkah was deep in a conversation with no end in sight. The Klondike bars we’d bought would be soup before we could get them into the freezer.

I rarely ate ice cream, but it was a blazing hot day and I had that Klondike jingle stuck in my head: What would you doo-oo-ooh… So I had gone out and bought a box of six. We each ate two in the car. The other two seemed destined for the trash. Out of my window, I spotted a man in a wheelchair stopped by the road. Why not offer him the ice cream? Yeah, right! I didn’t know the guy; he’d think I was nuts. But the idea stuck in my head just like that jingle.

I got out of the car and approached him. Up close he was pale, disoriented. My nursing training kicked in. I felt his skin. Cold and clammy. ‘Blood sugar’s low,’ the man mumbled. ‘Need something to eat…’ The Klondike bars did the trick. Soon the man was himself again, laughing and chatting away. ‘Where’d you folks come from, anyway?’ he said. ‘Heaven?’

‘Just the supermarket,’ I said with a laugh.”

6.  A Root Beer Float from Heaven
The amazing way a grieving family received comfort from above at a fast food joint. Read the story here.

7.  Chili for All
The sweet (or should I say spicy?) way that a pot full o’ chili ended up saving the day! Read the story here.

8.  Chocolate Box of Wonder
Miracles are like a box of chocolates….you never know what you’re gonna get! Take this story about a box of See’s Candies that led to some much-needed comfort. Read the story here.

9.  The Just-in-time Mints
This story from Mysterious Ways author Randy Beaumier proves that when we’re in need, God provides…even if what we need is mints!

“Ekgh! Ekgh! A coughing fit. I pulled the phone company van into a quiet cul-de-sac where I could catch my breath. My throat was burning something fierce. A few days earlier, one of my coworkers had been too sick to finish installing a new phone line. I’d met up with him to complete the work, and before he left I gave him a handful of red-and-white mint lozenges, my entire supply, to soothe his sore throat. I must have picked up his bug. Lord, I wish I’d saved a couple of those mints! I prayed. I heard a loud clanking noise. An old pickup truck was pulling up behind me. The driver climbed out and tapped on my window. “I see you work for the phone company,” he said, pointing to the logo on my van. “Thanks for everything you do. You look like you could use these.” He held out his hand. In his palm were two red-and-white mint lozenges.”

10.  A Miraculous Giant Tomato
The heartwarming way a giant tomato (yes, a giant tomato!) healed a woman’s relationship with her grandfather. Read the story here.

Do you have any “mysterious ways” food stories to share?