In the small hospital chapel, with a few chairs facing a cross on the wall, Elena sat with her eyes closed, praying. At least trying to pray. Trying to know how to speak words to the maker of them. Trying to understand how someone like her could be heard, especially after ignoring God for a lifetime.
How can someone who just did that—how can God actually want me to come to Him—how can He begin to care?
There was no medical explanation whatsoever for what had happened. And even though so many miracles had been documented in the Bible, Elena had never seen one in her life. She didn’t think they actually happened. Maybe she had doubted miracles in the first place, just like doubting that Jesus had come down to die on the cross for her.
I don’t want to doubt anymore.
She thought of the story of doubting Thomas. Elena had been around church long enough to know the story. The disciple who refused to believe Jesus had risen from the tomb, that needed to see Him in order to know. When Jesus had finally shown up, He said, “Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.”
I want to believe. I want to be blessed. I want to know without a shred of doubt that I’m beloved, that I belong. That I can help make this world a little better by showing that.
Like Bobby . . .
The door behind her opened, and an unspoken prayer suddenly got answered. Her husband stood at the entrance to the chapel, his dress uniform looking stained and torn, his face cut and dirty.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“It’s a long story. What are you doing in here?”
“Praying.”
He walked toward her and then sat beside her. “Oh?”
“Well, not praying, exactly. More like apologizing.”
Simply saying that last word to her husband did something. It was like rattling a cage hard enough to fling the door open.
“Tonight, I saw a miracle,” Elena said. “A real-life, in-the-flesh miracle. And it made me realize how I’ve been acting. Like the God who did that somehow wouldn’t be there for us.”
He simply looked at her, loving her, listening.
“I felt ashamed,” Elena continued. “And then I realized—I don’t wanna live like this anymore. I wanna give Jesus my whole life. All of it. No more holding back.”
Bobby embraced her. She could smell smoke on him, and wondered what had happened. When he faced her again, he looked full of regret.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he told her. “I’ve been so busy sharing my faith with everyone else—I somehow lost sight of you. Please, Elena. Forgive me.”
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t mind this apology. It felt good to simply understand each other and to be a team again.
Bobby leaned over and kissed her. The kind of kiss that wasn’t soaked in romance, but rather reconciliation. The kind of kiss that couples that made it eventually give. A kiss that reminded her that Bobby was there, that he loved her, that they were truly one.
“Will you pray with me?” Bobby eventually asked her.
“Gladly.”
They knelt down together and bowed their heads. Then Bobby nudged her to get her attention.
“Oh—I ran into your brother,” he said.
This was probably the last thing Elena expected to hear from Bobby.
The smoke. The tattered uniform. Now Carlos.
There had to be a connection.
“Really? Is he—how is he—”
Bobby simply gave her a confident nod and a smile. “Good. He’s really good.”
She felt him take her hand, then closed her eyes and heard his words as he prayed.
This felt unfamiliar. Yet it also felt right.
Like the man named Joe who had died and then come back to life, Elena found herself humbled and grateful and alive. Very much alive.