Our family had just spent weeks in California while my husband attended a Chemical Engineering conference. We visited friends, our six kids played in the sand on Newport Beach, I cleaned out ants that had found the honey in our Winnebago, and later we grabbed the friend’s daughter and went to Disneyland. Now we were on the way home in our slow, hot motorhome and the kids were cranky. Six of them, all arguing, dissatisfied, and out of sorts. It grew dark and they were so tired. They just needed to get home, but we still had too far to go.
We stopped at the Silver Reef campground, and I stepped outside to look around for loose firewood on the ground. I thought, “If those kids had a campfire and some marshmallows, the bickering would end.” We’d camped often at Yellowstone, where logs and branches littered the ground and were there for the picking. So, I walked through the whole campground, but there were no logs, no twigs, nothing! The only plants there were low-lying sage bushes in the red sand. I stood still in the middle of a sandy spot and bowed my head. With the sound of their discontent a dull roar in the background, I prayed. “Lord, it isn’t really necessary, but I’d sure like a fire. A campfire would really help us. Can you help me find some firewood? Amen.” My head was still bowed when my eyes opened. There, on the ground exactly placed between my parallel feet, was a long sprig of dead sagebrush. It had not been there before my prayer. Ah! That’s what the “firewood” was in this place! It wasn’t logs or branches, it was dead sagebrush that fell off and lay underneath each bush! “Children!” I called, running back to the RV. “Come collect sagebrush. We’re going to make a fire!”
Miracles are things for which we have no explanation, but for which we’re always grateful. One was at the end of Kurt’s blessing to Scott when he was told, “Your [dead] father is aware of your circumstances, and he is here with you now.” Excerpt page 102
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