How well I remember. Two years
ago in
downtown Denver my friend, Scott Reasoner, and I saw something tiny and
insignificant change the world, but no one else even seemed to notice.
It was one of those beautiful Denver days. Crystal clear, no humidity,
not
a cloud in the sky.
We decided to walk the ten blocks to an outdoor restaurant
rather than take the shuttle bus that runs up and down the Sixteenth
Street Mall.
The restaurant, in the shape of a baseball diamond, was called The Blake
Street Baseball Club. The tables were set appropriately on the grass
infield. Many colorful pennants and flags hung limply overhead. As we
sat outside, the sun continued to beat down on us, and it became
increasingly hot. There wasn't a hint of a breeze, and heat radiated up
from the
tabletop. Nothing moved, except the waiters, of course. And they didn't
move very fast, either.
After lunch Scott and I started to walk back up the mall. We
both noticed a mother and her young daughter walking out of a card shop
toward the street. She was holding her daughter by the hand while
reading a
greeting card. It was immediately apparent to us that she was so
engrossed in the card that she did not notice a shuttle bus moving
toward her at a good clip. She and her daughter were one step away from
disaster when Scott started to yell. He hadn't even gotten a word out
when a
breeze blew the card out of her hand and over her shoulder.
She spun around and grabbed at the card, nearly knocking her
daughter over. By the time she picked up the card from the ground and
turned back
around to cross the street, the shuttle bus had whizzed by her. She
never even knew what almost happened.
To this day two things continue to perplex me about this event.
Where did that one spurt of wind come from to blow the card out of that
young
mother's hand? There had not been a whisper of wind at lunch or during
our long walk back up the mall.
Secondly, if Scott had been able to get his words out, the young
mother might have looked up at us as they continued to walk into the
bus.
It was the wind that made her turn back to the card - in the one
direction that saved her life and that of her daughter. The passing
bus
did not create the wind. On the contrary, the wind came from the
opposite direction.
I have no doubt it was a breath from God protecting them both.
But the awesomeness of this miracle is that she never knew. As we
continued
back to work, I wondered how God often acts in our lives without our
being
aware. The difference between life and death can very well be a little
thing.
Comment:--- miracles often blow unseen through our lives."
Life's a little thing! Robert Browning once wrote. But a little
thing can mean a life. Even two lives.