From Ordinary to Miraculous

The Christmas season is a magical time, and I don’t mean the sorcerer/witchcraft kind of magic. I’m talking the miraculous occurrences that happen in an instant and are the outpourings of a Father’s love.

Just when I think I know what to expect from this festive, holy season, God throws a little wonderment my way. He never ceases to surprise!

This happened just a couple nights ago. Our church ladies’ group had planned an evening of Christmas caroling at the local nursing and assisted-living homes. Although I cannot really be classified as a singer, I do make a joyful noise, and I love to worship in that form.

Always eager to encourage my boys to bless others with their gift of voice, I convinced them to join us women, promising them cookies and punch afterward (that seldom fails!).

It was a nice evening as I expected. The boys added some appreciated variety to our female voices, and Rachel waved to everyone she saw. Many ladies wanted to shake her hand and/or give her a hug. She readily complied although I had to pry her away a few times.

About halfway through our time at the nursing home, a wheelchair-bound lady began wheeling along with us, joining in song and encouraging Rachel to hold her hand. She even pointed out her room to us—“Irene” was written on the door.

When our time finally came to leave that home for the next stop, Irene lingered. She seemed reluctant to see us go. The children and I were the last ones out (Rachel’s a little slow at the coat thing … and the saying goodbye thing … and the doing-as-she-is-told thing!). And her unhurried nature is precisely why God uses her in such profound ways—but more on that in another post!

The exchange that took place next convinced me that what I perceived as an ordinary night of caroling had taken on miraculous significance.

With a final “Merry Christmas” and “Thanks for singing with us” we turned to leave. A voice choked with emotion reclaimed our attention. Irene informed us that her husband had died that year, and the holidays were tough. With tears threatening to spill over, she explained that it brought her much joy to sing with us: It was just what she needed to help her through the pain and loneliness.

In that moment, it became anything but “normal” caroling. It was a sacred time of blessing others and being blessed!

And it became crystal clear to me: God didn’t just bring our group to the nursing home at that time to bring a little cheer and love. He placed us there to be His arms to hug one of His hurting children. He orchestrated our presence, so that we could be His voice, singing life back into an elderly ladies withering spirit.

That night, God used us to unwrap the gift of Jesus Christ, the Almighty Incarnate, for many lonely residents—one lady in particular.