My Father’s Prayer
Before my father died, he asked God to provide angels to watch over me and protect me after he was gone.
I remember those words.
And I believe that prayer was answered.
I feel their presence every day.
I don’t know what an angel looks like, and I don’t expect everyone to understand what I mean when I say that. For me, it isn’t about seeing something with my eyes. It is a feeling—a sense that I am not alone and that somehow, I am being watched over.
There have been moments in my life when I should have been completely overwhelmed, moments when circumstances could have turned out very differently, and moments when the right person or the right thing appeared when I needed it most.
I don’t believe all of those things are coincidence.
I believe some of them were miracles.
And perhaps the greatest lesson I have learned is that miracles are not always recognized when they happen.
Sometimes we only understand them when we look back.
So I try to pay attention now.
I try to notice the people who come into my life, the doors that open, the moments when something unexpectedly goes right, and the quiet feeling that tells me I am being guided or protected.
Maybe a miracle is not always something that changes the world.
Maybe sometimes it is simply something that changes your life.
“For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.” — Psalm 91:11
I believe one of the greatest gifts my father gave me was asking God to protect me with His love.
Faith
After I left Washington, I found an old, tattered, dirty, broken-framed painting in an antique store. The painting, by Patrick Lundquist, is called Faith.
The image stopped me.
It depicts a leap across a deep divide. Looking at it, I saw something of my own journey. There were times when I didn’t know if I would make it to the other side. I didn’t know what was waiting for me, or whether I had the strength to get there.
But I kept going.
I had faith in myself. And I had faith that God was protecting me.
I brought the old, damaged painting home. Somehow, even in its broken frame and worn condition, it had found its way to me at exactly the right time.
Today, it reminds me that sometimes faith isn’t knowing that you will make it.
Sometimes faith is taking the leap before you know how you will land.