"Miracles We Forget to Count"

Today I saw a miracle in a cemetery. 

Before I share about that miracle, let me warn you that it was a miracle we can be tempted to overlook.  The miracle that I saw today is not the kind of miracle that will make the news or spread like wild fire through email chain letters or face book shares.  Everyone loves to note miracles like sick people suddenly being made well, blind eyes opening, deaf ears hearing and the dead coming back to life.  Please do not misunderstand me; I am not saying such miracles are not reason to give God praise--they are!  I have witnessed such miracles through our very own prayer chain and prayer gatherings.  I believe God still does these kind of miracles.  However, I also believe we can live blind to a different kind of miracle that is just as amazing as the ones I just described. 

So, now back to where I started:  I saw a miracle in a cemetery today.  I was asked to do a funeral for a 47 year old man who died suddenly last week.  I did not know that man or his family, but Brenda Barion, a member of Living Hope, did.  Brenda called me and asked if I would officiate at the funeral.  I did so this morning.  After the grave side service, I watched as Brenda went to the deceased man's mother, whispered something in her ear and gave her a hug.  The grieving mother wept in Brenda's arms.  As I watched I realized I was witnessing a miracle. 

Many of you know Brenda's story, but just in case you don't, let me fill you in (you can read her story in the book she published, "Take it Easy Martha" which can be purchased on Amazon.com).  Brenda's son was murdered a few years ago.  In fact, her son is buried in the same cemetery just yards away from where we buried this other Mother's son today.  Now are you starting to see the miracle?

How can a Mother have a murderer rob her of her son and then be there to comfort another mother who has lost her son? The answer: A miracle.  As I watched Brenda comfort another grieving Mother I realized I was witnessing a miracle that is every bit as astonishing as if that son had been raised from the dead during the funeral. 

Please, again, don't get me wrong...I too prefer to see the miracles of dead people being resurrected, but I am also learning to not let my desire for those kind of miracles to cause me to miss miracles of a different kind.  The kind like I saw in the cemetery today.  The miracle of a sister in Christ, named Brenda, unjustly loosing her son and, yet, instead of turning from God she has grown stronger in God, who gives her the love and strength to be led to the most painful place she can go--the cemetery of her son-- and comfort another mother in her loss.  I don't know what anybody else would call that, but I call it a miracle.