Beyond Reason

I’m in my late teens, young and new at motherhood. My precious baby girl has scratched her cheek, and this morning I need to trim her tiny fingernails again. She’s four months old and so adorable, smiling and cooing at me.

Fresh from her bath, the scent of baby powder and lotion wafts around us. I lean down to nuzzle the softness of the sweet cuddly place between her neck and shoulder before I slip clean clothes on her.

We carry on our usual fun mommy/baby dialogue as I secure her on her changing table, all buckled up. A wiggly, lively baby, she’s a challenge to me to care for. I pick up the small nail scissors to cut my little one’s fingernails.

She’s in constant motion and curious when I take her little hand in mine and begin to trim those tiny nails.

Then—the unthinkable.

Feet, and legs and hands and arms move all at once, and before I can stop, the scissors slice into her tender flesh. Blood trickles from her little finger, dripping onto her white shirt. I stare down at the cut on her finger in disbelief.

Her instant cries pierce my heart.

Oh, dear God, I’ve hurt my child.

Appalled, my heart twists into an unrelenting ache. I run to the bathroom for a cloth and bandages, prayers on my lips, her wails echoing in my ears . . .

Please, heavenly Father, no!

I race back to her side.

Something has changed.

She’s suddenly quiet. I reach for her hand to rinse the blood away, but step back, and my eyes search for what is no longer there.

There’s no trace of the crimson blood that covered her fingertip and ran down her hand. There are no droplets of blood staining her now snow-white shirt, nor is there evidence of the cut on her finger. I’m stunned.

I continue to search for a piece of red thread or a scrap of red cloth, anything to give me a reasonable, logical explanation. But the more I look the more in awe I become. Thankfulness slowly replaces doubt and the ache in my heart eases.

There’s nothing red, there is no blood anywhere.

Looking up at me, cheeks still wet with tears, sweet baby sounds bubble from my little one. And through my tears of joy, I undo the confining straps of the changing table and scoop her up into my arms.

This is beyond reason, beyond logic, and I stand, holding her close, humbled, overjoyed at the power of God, thanking him over and over for what he has done—for answering my prayers.

There is no other explanation.

When I stood beside my infant daughter, searching in disbelieving wonder for evidence of blood and injury that was no longer there, I stood on ground as holy as the ground on which Moses stood at the burning bush.

Where have you experienced holy ground? As believers in Christ Jesus, it is not beyond any of us.

“The centurion answered and said, ‘Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof. But only speak a word, and my servant will be healed’” (Matthew 8:8 NKJV).

“Then Jesus answered and said to her, ‘O woman, great is your faith! Let it be to you as you desire.’ And her daughter was healed from that very hour” (Matthew 15:28 NKJV).

Not unto us, O LORD, not unto us,
But to Your name give glory,
Because of Your mercy,
Because of Your truth.
Psalm 115:1

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6 thoughts on “Beyond Reason

  1. Wow. God has “moments” for each of us when He stoops down and lets us know He’s real and cares, doesn’t He? Moments when a prayer is answered–no matter how small–are divine moments. People might say, “Why didn’t it happen to me? Worse happened to my child.” The answer? We live in a fallen, imperfect world, and we have an enemy. God is not to blame when bad things happen.

    I’m convinced God has “moments” custom designed for each of us. This was certainly one of yours! I hope this inspires folks to let their skin feel the goosebumps of a divine moment, Sally. No matter how small.Those moments shape us.

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  2. Oh, Ann, what you wrote above took my breath! You so beautifully said what I couldn’t as I was so caught up in the memory of that miraculous moment. Thank you! I too, have had many times when I’ve prayed for a miracle and it was answered as yours prayer for your precious daughter was. You are a blessing!

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  3. Beautiful story of God’s supernatural grace, Sally. It reminds me of a childhood event at about 9 or 10. I was visiting a friend and we were cleaning her family’s bathroom as something to do to entertain ourselves. I knocked off the back of the commode a little glass hen that held bobby pins. (Remember those where the top half of the hen lifted off?) It fell from my hands into the commode and broke. I was horrified! I never felt comfortable around her mother in the best of times and I was scared, scared, scared. I called to Dianne to tell her what happened and when we looked into the commode bowl, the glass hen was completely intact. I know God put it back together for me because I was so afraid of Dianne’s mother. I will never forget that supernatural blessing and just how grateful I was.

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  4. Hi, Pat. God is ever-amazing in his grace and love for us! I do remember those little hens–and how fragile they were. Thank you for sharing something so dear to your heart. Even at such a young age, you knew and were grateful to the One who had interceded for you and gave you comfort when you were so fearful.

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  5. Know something else, dear Zillah? It’s wondrous and amazing to me that at this time in my life there’s this way of sharing events I’ve held so close for so long. I’m seeing that many others are listening to the Holy Spirit’s urgings to write and post openly of things they’ve long pondered in their hearts too. All of this is to the glory of God. Just one more way He’s given us to be a little of His light in this world. I treasure your encouraging comment.♥

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