The Fingerprints of God

Do you believe in coincidences? Because I don’t. I have seen too many miracles to believe that life just happens. And sometimes a McFlurry and a large bowl of Whoopie Pies are God’s way of telling us that He is still in control.

It was the beginning of a crazy week. We had things to do and places to go, and two of our employees were on vacation. And then Lukas had a bike accident. This time, unlike his older brother’s accident five years ago, the accident wasn’t caused by a potential arrhythmia. This time it was simply a matter of swerving to avoid a nasty pothole and running off the side of the road. But the results were eerily familiar.

Thankfully, a few guardian angels arrived immediately to help him. Lukas couldn’t talk very well, but he managed to tell them his name and unlock his phone so they could call Steve. An EMS friend who “just happened” to be going by stopped to help, and another friend gave Lukas a ride home in his truck.

Lukas’ helmet protected his head, but his face was banged up. He had road burns across his left side, and his knee hurt. But we quickly realized there were no broken bones to worry about. The goose egg above his right eye concerned us the most, but we cleaned him up and settled him on the recliner with an ice pack on his head.

“If you ever doubted that we love you,” I slathered another hunk of B& W ointment on the left side of Lukas’ torso and smiled into his battered face. “Well, you don’t have to worry anymore. Look at your siblings. Josiah got the water, Grace ran for the ice pack, and Derek is fetching bandages.”

That was when he asked for the barf bucket.

After some deliberation, we decided to play it safe and take him to the ER to get that bump checked out. A nurse checked us in and sent us back to the waiting room. We settled Lukas into a chair beside me, so he could rest against my shoulder, then Steve fetched a warm blanket for him.

I read some poetry to Lukas, from a small booklet I had in my purse, then I told him some stories. When he felt well enough, I began asking questions. Did he remember everything? Could he tell me exactly what happened? Who was there to help him?

Other folks began to trickle into the ER. Several looked miserable. Others looked like their emergency could wait a while. “I think I know you.” The woman had brought her mother in, and when she saw Lukas, she immediately came over to see what had happened. Then she saw Steve. “I think I know you from somewhere.” Her brow crinkled. “But I can’t figure out where.”

As it turned out, Tonya (name changed to protect identity) remembered Steve from when he worked at Weaver Service. She fussed over Lukas and we chatted for a while, then she settled in next to her mother.

Time dragged on. Nobody was called in, and finally there weren’t enough chairs in the waiting room for all the walk-in patients. Security kept apologizing, but there was nothing they could do. Tonya stood up and said she was going to grab some supper. She had already left, but suddenly she reappeared. “Can I get you guys something? I would be more than happy to.”

Steve and I were fine, but Lukas was thirsty, so Tonya promised to bring a soda for him.

Twenty minutes later she was back. “I’m so sorry. McDonalds didn’t have the soda you asked for, so I brought you an Oreo McFlurry instead. Everything is better with ice cream. Right?”

Lukas accepted gratefully. Ice cream felt good on his swollen lips.

Gradually, Lukas’ nausea faded, and he began to perk up a little bit. He answered all my questions, and after two hours of waiting, we decided to go home. We bid goodbye to Tonya and her mother and headed outside to wait for a friend to come pick us up.

We were almost home when we met one of Lukas’ friends biking up the road. And when we opened the front door, Grace sat at the table eating a giant Whoopie Pie. Derek was doing laundry, but he stopped to tell us that Luke had brought the large bowl of cookies. “He said you still had a refill left from our church auction last summer.”

I couldn’t believe it. First the friend who just happened to be passing by when Lukas flopped, then a McFlurry from someone we hadn’t seen in six years. And finally, the bowl of cookies waiting on the table. I smiled as I hung my purse on the doorknob. “I hear you, Lord. Loud and clear.”

I called Luke’s mom to thank her, and my bedtime prayers were filled with praise that night. Was our rough evening filled with coincidences? Maybe. But I have lived long enough to recognize the fingerprints of God. And sometimes they look like ice cream, cookies, and people who show up at just the right moment.