My dad's perseverance in this life has astonished us
all. He's had several “this is it”
moments when we thought he was facing his last few weeks. Remarkably, he's pulled through them
all. Still, I know he understands enough
to be aching for his true Home. Much of
my reading this year has been of those who have experienced near death experiences
(NDEs) or other out-of-body visions of the next place of light. The books have also described that thin veil
between this life and the next, in which those near to death are already
glimpsing the glory of what comes next.
I've been yearning and praying for this place for him.
My family planned a trip to visit him and my mom and
I was praying I could pray him into this heavenly realm, even as his body
remains here. Since it hasn't been safe
for quite a few years for Mom to care for him, he's been in a special home a
little over an hour from where she lives.
We arrived at Mom's and had made arrangements to visit Dad the next day,
including with a private time and place for me with him.
After sharing a special evening with Mom, I logged onto Facebook and saw the news and pictures from my local friends. My hometown was on fire.
I checked my cell phone
and, sure enough, there was an urgent message from my Red Cross director for my
assistance. I contacted her and other
Red Cross friends and they all said they were handling it, that I needed to
stay, and they’d have plenty for me to do upon my return. I then checked other media outlets and saw us
in the national news. That was a tough night. My heart was
aching for my dad, worried about my community, and angry with God for
double-booking my calendar!
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| One of the first photographs I saw on my Facebook news page and the one I reposted, taken about 10-15 miles from my home |
Since I couldn't sleep anyway, I got up with the sun
and took an extended prayer walk. I prayed
for Dad and my hometown, but also released my confused anger as to why I was
away when my own community was suffering in the very way I had been training to
help. The Lord took my anger well and calmed
me down. I also prayed I could be all
there with Dad and that my time with him could carry him into the places of
light.
God answered that prayer in a big way. I prayed Dad into the places of light, describing the
images I had read about by those who've had NDEs. I saw his face relaxing, his eyes seeing it,
his eyes welling up, and his whole body soaking it in. After my prayer, I kissed him, which is
usually a one-way kiss of me to him, as he barely moves. Not this time. He leaned over and planted a big, full kiss
on my cheek. I knew Dad had just seen
heaven. I also knew I was exactly where
I was supposed to be.
Watching
Dad glimpsing heaven was the first little miracle of these intense weeks. I've since been praying that he is spending more conscious time there than here. We spent our fully planned time with my
family. Upon my return, the fire was
still raging, much help was needed, and I was given plenty to do. Meeting with clients in the fire zone, seeing
my own beautiful community charred in black for miles upon miles, and breathing
in its smoke felt heavy and surrealistic.
But I resonated with what one of my Red Cross friends noticed: “In the
midst of all this destruction are all these little miracles.”
Some
of the “little miracles” were small, like the heavy envelop filled with change
a volunteer firefighter brought to the Red Cross filled with “widow’s mites” of
grateful locals of little means, or the provision of yard tools to a couple who
managed properties for multiple tenants of lost and destroyed homes. While I
was helping to close a shelter, we were deciding where to bring the many
donations that had poured in and we had places for most of them, but not for
the rakes, shovels, and other yard equipment.
Three hours before closing, the couple managing properties came in,
needing these yard tools in the quantities we had, and they gratefully took
away most of the materials we had no space for.
Some
of the “little miracles” were not so little, like the lives and the home of the
couple living deep in the fire zone and a far distance from town. The couple had tried to evacuate, but never
made it out of the fire zone, as the fire was surrounding them. They waited in their truck for a couple of
hours, seeking an opening, but as the fire was coming toward them, they saw
that it was also retreating from where they lived. They decided to return, hoping to save their
own lives, but expecting to find their home destroyed. With blackness all around them, and all
around their property from 10-30 yards, their home was in tact. The couple had used
basic fire repellent from a local hardware store; it was hardly professional
grade and certainly not meant to ward off a raging wildfire. But, along with divine grace, it worked. It seemed to me as if God had looked down and
said, “I see you’re doing what you can and I’ll take it the rest of the way by
My Grace.”
Other
“little miracles” touched me personally, like the assistance I was able to give
to one particular client. A local
organization had put up a communications website for the fire so that those who
had need could connect with those who wished to help and vice versa. The cry
for help by one woman whose home had been destroyed moved me into special
prayer for her. I had not remembered her
name, but knew God did, and kept praying the Lord would provide for her. That evening, I was working through a list I
had been given of clients to call to arrange meetings with us. I
spoke with one woman who was staying with some friends, but needed some privacy
and felt the friends did too. I arranged
to have her come to one of our shelters and I met her there the next day. My partner and I also provided her with some
basic necessities and small funds for more. Two days later, I checked the
website again and looked for an update on the woman who I had been praying for.
She was the same one I had had the
chance to help.
In those two weeks, I saw suffering but I also saw
little miracles. It seems
when we step outside of normal, everyday living, we put on new eyes and we see
what the Father is doing at all times. For years, I’ve posted the following as
my “favorite quotation” and it fits perfectly.
It comes from “The Lost Years of Jesus,” when Jesus, as he so often was,
was being tested by religious authorities to produce a “miracle.” Too bad the canonical texts missed his
response on this particular occasion: “Miracles happen every day and et every
moment. He who sees them not is deprived
of one of the fairest gifts of life.”
©
2012 by Karina Jacobson. All rights reserved. Please use
only with permission from the author.
