Silent Retreat Miracle

Fall Foliage

People who know me, understand the radical idea of this blog’s title. Get me around people and I’d rather talk or even listen, definitely not enjoy silence.

Why did I feel that I was being prompted to attend the next retreat in the fall? An attendee of the spring retreat spoke from the platform one Sunday in April telling of her experience. Not wanting to be disobedient to a God prompting, I put the idea of signing up  somewhere on the “back burner.”

Then it was the fall, and the pastor was urging people to attend the silent retreat he and his wife were hosting in a cabin beside a lake. The prompting was much stronger this time. I felt compelled to sign up. ME, can you imagine?

We rode in a van over to the cabin and I settled upstairs in a room with two cots. My roommate came in late; it was the woman who spoke in April and decided at the very last minute to come back. Strange.

We went down to supper, a time when people were encouraged to speak. Each of us stated why we were there. Then the talk shifted to how one could hear from God during the retreat.

My roommate, a new Christian, was perplexed; she had not heard voices or seen any visions in the spring. How could she be sure  whether God was speaking to her?

She may have been perplexed, but I finally knew why I had literally been dragged to this retreat. As casually as I could, I told everyone at the table that God speaks to people, audibly, visually, and kinesthetically (through the other senses)…depending on how they each process information. I heard God’s promptings because I’m an audio thinker. Others might feel God speak while out walking in nature. And many experience his voice while they are writing.

Soon it was time to silently retire for the night. The next day with guidance from the pastor, we each went our way to meet again after lunch.

As expected, I received no new revelations that day, just a bit of a rest and new admiration for how God arranges things. For my roommate was bubbling with joy that afternoon when she reported that God did indeed speak to her when she was writing. She had been unaware before, but now she recognized His “voice.”

Location: Fall in New England
Type of Miracle: Reassurance, Guidance



Third Delivery Miracle

Sunrise and Most Southern USA Point
Sunrise at Most Southern USA Point

It was early on a Saturday morning in September. This was my third time in the hospital delivery room, the second time in just over a year. Our two young sons were still asleep in their bed and crib at home, with my mother watching them. We hoped that they would soon have a new little sister.
Some hospital procedures had changed in that year. My husband had to wear hospital garb to be in the new Lamaze delivery room. And we would have a midwife, whom we had not met, assisting the gynecologist.
Somethings didn’t change. The doctor incorrectly assumed he had time to get a cup of coffee before the delivery. One contraction after he got into the elevator, the nurse realized my labor had begun. Immediately I had to be moved by gurney to the special delivery room. My husband had to fit into a small-sized hospital outfit in a side room about the size of a closet. And the nurse had to find the doctor.
During all of this commotion the midwife arrived. She did her cheery best to calm everyone down. She chatted about being free to spend the rest of this lovely fall day at home with her family. I listened in between performing the pant-blow technique I had learned to slow the delivery.
The doctor arrived and it was time to push. Between contractions the midwife continued to chat, this time about her boys at home. My ears perked up as she said their names – Thomas Jr., Matthew and Daniel. At home we had a Charles Jr. and a Matthew. The name we picked for a girl was Grace; the name for another boy was Daniel.
At that moment, just before the final push I knew our third son was about to be born.
What kind of a miracle can we call this? Reassurance, that God had a plan and it was good. So strong was the assurance that it overcame any disappointment I might have felt.
Fifteen months later my three sons were joined by a sister named Grace. And our third son would become the only one to have sons of his own to carry on the family name.

CT 1970