A Writer's Thoughts

Miracles…His Ever Present Miracles

Theology in the Trenches

By Kathleen Kjolhaug

 

The small Bible shop was calming. After all, the week had been a busy one, and the need to purchase a gift or two seemed like a celebration in comparison. The gift would double as a belated Christmas greeting and a “congratulations on the purchase of your new home” for the ones coming to visit. Although this part of life is exciting, it can also be stressful, and I wanted the gift to represent a warm calm. Spotting two matching coffee mugs upon the shelf seemed perfect for such a time as this. Be still and know… were the words in script upon the mugs. Little did I remember that twenty-four years earlier, these very words had served as a foundation from which this generation had launched. And, little did I know that it would be from these words that yet another generation would as well. But He knew… and it was nothing short of a miracle...amidst His ever present miracles.

The arrival of the couple brought with it discussion about their home, when they would move in, and what colors were on the list of top picks for painting a room or two. Soon, they pulled out the paint samples to shuffle through when suddenly, an envelope surfaced. Flipping it over a time or two, my shoulders shrugged it off. Eyes looking on wanted validation of that which was before them, so trying to look positive about the drab colored paper in comparison to the color swatches, I flipped it over once again. Finally, understanding that it wasn’t meant as a color comparison, the flap of the envelope was opened and a black and white photograph fluttered out.

The digital image revealed a picture of a tiny developing baby scheduled to arrive at some point this summer. A whirlwind of conversation followed, a few hugs or two, and anything beyond that wasn’t worth remembering as the rest of the afternoon passed quickly. What was remembered was that at some point during the weekend, a wooden chest which held treasures from the past was opened. The first clothes worn home from the hospital reclaimed memories, homemade blankets stitched with love from neighbors were brought forth, and a crusted candy rose from the baptismal cake was uncovered. Suddenly, from underneath it all surfaced a book. A long forgotten book entitled, “Meditations for the Expectant Mother” by Helen Good Brenneman seemingly floated to the top of the treasure pile.

Fingers slowly ran themselves over the brown cardboard type cover, and my breathing all but stopped. Upon the first pages turned were scrawled notes written to the heart of the little one yet unborn. Now, twenty-four years later, that little one stood before me awaiting the arrival of her first born.

Walking down memory lane helped pass the afternoon. As our daughter moved on to the next task of the day, I lingered, cherishing that which was before me. Time had completely erased any memory of the book, but upon first glance, those years that had passed collapsed like a time machine. It seemed like only yesterday the notes were jotted from one heart to another in hopes that someday she would read them. Now, that time had come.

            Turning the final pages of the book came all too soon, and glancing at the words brought closure to that which had been penned so many years ago. As my eyes scrolled down the page, the verse I’d written jumped out like a heartbeat giving life. To the one now carrying her own, it said…

 “Be still and know…that I am God.”  Amen.