Mishaps into Miracles

The conference was scheduled months in advance. I knew Jeff would be in Africa, but my parents happily agreed to come with me and watch the kids there at the coast. Perfect. I rented a small beach-house, right by the conference center where I’d be speaking. All set.

Until mom broke her leg just before the conference. Now what do I do? I have a conference, a beach house, and 2 kids. Hmm…

Of course, I prayed. Then I texted my mother-in-law. Could you come? She already had another trip planned. Next, my aunt and uncle. So sorry, it doesn’t work for us. Because it was a Mon-Wed conference, it had to be someone either retired or who didn’t have any normal weekday commitments and who would feel comfortable sharing a tiny  house with us and taking care of my kids … i.e. there aren’t very many of those people!

But every time I prayed, I has this strong sense: Wait. Trust Me.

Days went by. Wait. Trust Me. With just a few days before the conference, the question crossed my mind. Where is the line between faith and irresponsibility?

Wait. Trust Me.

Then, just a couple days before the conference, Dutch asked if he could stay with my parents instead of going. Of course! I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s way easier to do things when it’s just Heidi and me. She’s a great little sidekick. Then, one hour after he asked that, the coordinator for the conference emailed and said she’d be bringing her two little girls and a hired helper, and that Heidi was welcome to play with her girls with the hired helper during my teaching sessions! This now meant that Heidi and I had a 3-day Girl’s Beach trip to ourselves, complete with a house and childcare provided during my teaching times.

In the course of an hour, what seemed like a test turned into a treat.

A mishap into the miracle.

But that wasn’t it. More miracles and mishaps were ahead.

The day of the conference, we got Jeff on the airplane to Africa, and met up with my parents to hand Dutch off. It was a gloriously sunny day, and we happened to be just blocks away from my dear lifelong friend, Janae, who I rarely get to see because both our lives are so busy. Just the week before, Heidi had been asking if she could please play with Janae’s daughters sometime. I texted her to see if we could swing by on our way to the beach. Our convo –>

By the time we swung by her house 10 minutes later, her kids already had their beach toys ready to go! “Just like old times!” She said with a smile, reminiscing to our college days when impromptu road-trips were a common occurrence.

That afternoon we laughed as the kids splashed in the freezing ocean. They came back to our beach house and huddled up around the fireplace while we made dinner then walked to the park, pushing them on swings and finally getting hours to catch up after way, way, way too long.

Late that night, she loaded up her kids for the long drive home. Just as they were pulling out, I remembered that I’d forgotten Heidi’s favorite breakfast cereal, a treat for our trip. I told Heidi quietly, and in the perfect storm of missing daddy, and saying goodbye to friends, and feeling a little out-of-place in this new house, she started crying. (Yes, crying over Cheerios.) I comforted her, and told her it’d be ok, and we waved goodbye and headed inside. We curled up in bed, but she still cried softly, missing daddy. I kissed her tears, and we prayed.

Then my phone buzzed.

Something’s on your porch. 🙂

Heidi and I ran to the front door. There it was. A big yellow box of cheerios and 2 pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. In college Janae and I used to eat B&J together, almost every day. I hadn’t tasted the super-rich, delicious ice cream in years.

Heidi jumped up and down, holding the yellow box. It’s silly, maybe, it’s just a cereal, but we poured her a little bowl as a bedtime snack, and it was just the little gift, the little kiss from God, to comfort her heart and make her feel loved.

The next day, still basking in God’s love, Heidi and I went to the conference. Again, a little mishap–the childcare option fell through. Now what do we do? My session was scheduled to begin at 2:00pm, and at 2:05pm I was sitting on the floor in the hallway holding my daughter, wiping her tears, assuring her it’d all be ok. Would it?

“I’ll tell you what sweetie-girl. I’d LOVE to have you with me while I speak. It’d be such a treat for me. You can sit at my feet, ok?”

And so she did. I sat behind a conference table, and she sat at my feet, playing with her stuffed animal and typing notes on my phone. At one point she tooted loudly while I was talking. Yup. It was all fairly awesome adventure.

The rest of the conference went on without much more mishap, but later, after getting home, I received a message from a dear gal who’d attended:

God used you a mighty way when precious Heidi was under the table. Your gracious love for her in that time really taught me a few very important things about my daughter. God got my attention! Thank you for letting your change of plans be for is glory.

That last line has so stuck with me, it’s become my prayer: “Lord let my change of plans be for Your glory.”

In His hands, all mishaps turn to miracles.

{For whatever mishaps you meet this week, may you place them in His hands, in trust, and watch Him work them into miracles. Thanks for reading!}