The Miracle of the Sign

From: E'dit Martinez D. (editmartinezd@att.net)
Story type: Angel Story
Location: Houston
Source: Form Submission
Date submitted: Tue Aug 18 13:11:30 2009

‘The Miracle of the Sign

Most of the family came to the house. Easter Sunday is my favorite holiday next to Christmas. I should say they are one and the same. The day was mild and warm for a beautiful Spring day. A late afternoon it was, and I had already hidden the eggs to hunt. It was mostly us girls; mother, my sisters and nieces.

While I sat watching everyone find eggs, I was stumped to be asked if there were more eggs to find. I didnt have an answer for I realized I'd forgotten to count them. Still, the egghunt was good. We sat in the back patio talking, laughing and sharing the few photos we took. I noticed my father was not with us the whole time. My mother had said he had a headache and went upstairs to take a nap. Daddy never missed family time and I was going to see him, but I knew it better to let him rest.

The following day I was off, for I had to see the neurologist for a sore arm due to the error of a technician inserting the needle in the wrong place. The appointment was about ten minutes drive, and then I would see my boyfriend for the day. I received a healthy report and that it would take a few months to heal. I managed the discomfort pretty well as I used a damp cloth at night to cover my arm. It soothed it.

Upon leaving the doctors office, I suddenly felt a heaviness around me. I looked up and ran to my car. I sensed my fathers spirit. I was the closest to him and I couldnt bear the thought of anything terrible happening to him. I drove for five minutes and I was fortunate there was no traffic. As I pulled to park, I saw my mother helping my father on the bench in the front porch. Daddy always sat there. It was his sanctuary. He had a handkerchief pressed on his head. Trying not to look afraid, I casually walked toward them and asked mother what was the matter. My father's head was hurting again.

We walked him back inside for he was not comfortable. He slurred his speech and mixed his words. I quickly notioned to my mother that we take him to the doctor. We drove and headed to the doctors office immediately. My father was patient but in pain. We soon learned that we needed to take him to the hospital. We arrived at Saint Lukes in the medical center. The emergency room began to fill with people needing help and the staff had already placed my father in a room and checked his vitals.

In the meantime, I spoke soft words of encouragement to daddy and gave him as much love. I checked on my mother and told her everything would be allright. I had a feeling that my father would have to stay overnight or longer. My mother looked very worried, but I held my head as high as I could in faith, holding her and encouraging her. Faith in the Lord is what I live for. The doctors didnt arrive until 5:30p.m. which upset me. We had waited for a doctor for four hours! Finally, my father was moved to another area in the emergency room where four doctors tended to him. He had suffered a stroke. By that time, most of the family arrived and I began to brief everyone about the possibility of daddy staying.

My big sister began to massage the soles of his feet to keep his blood flowing. He was alert and seemed fine. This method worked for he remembered who we were. Nothing prepared my family, when the doctors came back, and told us that they were keeping daddy overnight for tests and treatment. It was the right thing to do. Most of my family were stunned at the news, but I'd already felt this would happen. My daddy was being taken to ICU, ( I care about U ). Though, I know what it stands for, it sounds better the way I see it.

Evening came and the whole family was there, my brothers included. Daddy was resting and nurses constantly came in to help him. My mother looked tired and worried. Before some of us left for home, I'd planned to stay. The nurses were nice enough to let us all cram in the room with daddy. I called my work and told them I would be with my father and that his condition was fragile. Then, my mother came to me and told me to go home and to think of something simple to cook and bring to eat. I hesitated and cried. I didnt want to leave my father. I pleaded with her for me to stay. She convinced me enough, that I would take care of the house and our pets. I said good-bye and drove home.

Once home, I broke down. I wanted to be with my father. I was so unsettled and kept pacing upstairs and downstairs. I was home alone. It was close to eleven at night and I needed to pray. I lit the candle and kneeled in front of the cross downstairs. I began to say the rosary, when I suddenly stopped and broke down again. I looked up at the cross and spoke to Jesus. I felt that at any moment I could lose my father. He was seventy-six and he had a zest for life. A devout Roman Catholic, he taught us the good life, was strict and loving. He always spoke of his love for God. I felt stuffy being alone and I could not bring myself to pray.

I ran upstairs and found my daddys work shirt. He retired many years ago as a mechanical engineer at a hospital. I carefully removed the cross from the wall and went outside to the back patio. I wrapped my daddys shirt around the cross. There, I was down on my knees praying. I prayed the rosary twice, one for Daddy. I was afraid and I sobbed until my eyes were sore and puffy. I had crawled on my knees and didnt care for any discomfort I felt. I felt they were scraped, but I never cared to look. Still, I continued to pray to Gods army of Saints. I began to walk on the grass on my knees until I reached the basketball court. I walked around it holding the cross, speaking to The Lord. I composed myself and remained quiet. I stood and solemnly prayed to The Lord. My fathers life was in The Lords hands and so I asked him if he could please bring him back to us. I loved my daddy very much. I felt The Lords presence; if only I could see him. The Lord knew how much my father wanted to live and be here with us.

Though most of are married with children, my father had a strong desire to keep going. Thats Faith, thats Love. I told The Lord that I never asked him for luxuries, but only to help me with what I needed to get me through life. I asked him to give back my father. I always trusted in The Lord. I humbly asked him for a Sign that my father would recover and be with my family again- happy and healthy. I slowly looked up and there was utter silence. I sighed. The whole neighborhood was quiet. No sound of cars passing by, no dogs barking, no music playing. My face was taut and I could feel my skin stretch from the constant crying. The moon glowed and sat westward. The stars were bright and many. I looked around and saw how still the trees were. There was no breeze. It was a perfect night, but I was in agony for my beloved father.

I began to walk back to the house. Then, I saw Lobo looking at me. He couldnt walk on his hind legs anymore due to dysplasia. He was the finest German shepherd and a good watchdog. Thats all we've ever had, are German shepherds. I caressed his head and massaged his hips. He was in pain too. I helped him to his spot where he normally slept, and I used the carton to slide him there. He missed daddy too, motioning with his paw and moaning grievously. I kissed his head and walked toward the kitchen door.

Suddenly, I heard something. The sound of tiny beads hitting on the aluminum carport. There were few. I stopped and listened as the noise was increasing. I looked up and the stars were bright. There were no clouds. The moment I opened the door, the crackling sound increased and became louder. I stood at the doorway looking outside. Lobo and I looked at each other. My eyes widened without blinking as I looked around to see what this crackling noise was. I thought it was rain. I couldnt see it if it was. Then, I stood in awe as I witnessed a strong downpour of it. Rain? On a starry night? There was not a cloud in the sky. My heart raced and I beamed with elation! I saw more rain fall and I could see how the concrete was dampening. Rain!, I said.

This was something more than rain. I knew in my heart! I quickly stretched my bare arm as I let it soak my skin up to my shoulder. I saw rain drops falling from my hand as I turned it over and over. A feeling of peace and love overwhelmed me. I drew my palm and drank a sip of the water. There I believed. I was consumed. It was the Sign from The Lord. He heard my prayer. I never doubted him. He showed me the rain and, yet it was his tears raining down. I touched his mighty tears. They were warm and bland. Sheer confidence radiated throughout my being. I was overjoyed! It was a Miracle worthy of the Vatican to acknowledge. I did not hear The Lords voice speak to me, but he scripted a message in my mind.

I clasped my hands together and closed my eyes. I saw that somehow The Lord was pleased with me. I had given my all to prayer hoping that my father could be healed. The Lord said, This is how I want all my children to pray. Give all your heart to me in fervent prayer. The Lord said that my father would be healed and coming home in ten days. He then scripted, You must all learn two things, Love and Patience I felt his blessing. He blessed my father. He is Holy. I opened my eyes and jubilantly thanked The Lord. I stretched my arm out and cried his name. Jesus! Jesus! I placed the cross back on the wall and ran all over the house like crazy. I screamed, Daddy is going to be allright and he is coming home. I ran into every room in the house as if I were telling anyone who would hear. I ran back downstairs and stood in confidence in front of the cross. It took awhile to calm myself, but when I looked up at him, I remembered Jesus. His sufferings, his Power, his Mightiness. He never complained, yet he died for us. I began to cry again softly, chalantly. I observed every wound on his body. I stared into his eyes looking down on me. I didnt blink, but I saw something fall from his face and land on his left knee. I touched his knee and it was wet.

When I turned to see my finger, it was a tear. I had still been crying and rarely dried my eyes, but I do not know if it was his tear or mine. Still, it was a Miracle. I placed my head against the cross touching his knees and I gave thanks to The Lord. I couldnt wait to tell my family. Most of them stayed at the hospital.

I later cooked pasta and chicken, and a fruit cocktail. I slept late. The next morning, I awoke with energy and looked forward to going to the hospital. The morning was beautiful and bright. My room was never this bright and I could barely see my furniture and things. I sat for a few minutes to give thanks to The Lord and then I was attracted to a noise in my room. I saw a photo of Lobo slip upward and fall to the floor. I had it in a shoebox full of photos. I suddenly felt a presence in the room. Maybe an angel. I ran to my calendar and marked the first day before daddy would come home. Then I readied myself and packed the food, and drove to the hospital.

When I arrived, I found everyone looking tired and cramped. I told my mother of the Miracle and she shyly accepted, doubting what had happened. I held her, and told her that daddy would be fine, and that he would be home in ten days just like The Lord told me. She didn't believe me. I shared the Miracle with my other siblings, but they looked down and drawn. They looked worried, but I told them there was nothing to worry about- that Miracles DO happen. I stood with my sister and told her everything. She was soft-spoken and said, From your lips to Gods ears, and then began to cry. I hugged her and everyone. I truthfully told them what had happened, and that they should never doubt The Lord. It was obvious and I was hurt for The Lord, but I let go quickly. My familys faith had slipped, I thought.

I stood strong and greeted my father with a big hug and told him that he would be allright, and that he would be coming home soon. The doctors had not given any results yet, but for the fact that Daddy had a bloodclot the size of an egg in the back of his head. I wasnt afraid anymore, for I knew The Lord had spoken. He did hear my prayer and I passed the message to everyone. There was silence in the room for awhile, and then the nurses came in to tend to daddy. He was eating and resting well. On the fourth day, Daddys condition improved, and so was moved to a regular room. More blood work and a catscan would follow. We saw daddy begin to fret, inching away from his bed to leave for home. It was a bit difficult, but we explained as best we could that he was being taken care of. The doctor who had not tended to him in the emergency room was new to me. We saw him say that his blood pressure was still too high, despite giving medication that would help. He wasnt sure to let him leave and so decided to keep him. My faith did not wain. I still believed the Miracle of the Sign. Daddy would be coming home in ten days.

The eighth day came and we were introduced to a new specialist. Soon, he would order a batch of tests and another cat scan. My fathers impatience was obvious and my mother worried that he would not get better. Non-sense, I told her. I had a heart-to-heart with daddy later, and encouraged him to pray like hed always done. He had been talking of old events that we never knew. His memory had lapsed at some level, but I knew in my heart that good therapy would help him recover. He spoke in Spanish to my boyfriend who didnt understand or speak a word of it. So, he nodded as if to agree. By then, my siblings and I took turns and I returned to work. The doctor would announce the results the following afternoon. And so, I went to work and constantly looked at the clock. Two oclock was the time we would know.

When I returned from lunch early, I called the hospital and spoke with my mother while waiting for the doctor. We chatted until the doctor suddenly walked in. I told my mother not to hang up the phone, but to place it where I could hear him. The first thing he said to my father was, Fernando, esta listo a volver a trabajar? (Are you ready to return to work?) I heard the doctor tell my mother in a pleased tone that all of my fathers tests returned normal. He described all of his organs being clean of any problem. Then, I heard my mother wail in gratitude for the outcome as I visioned, that she was being held by the doctor near collapse, from the good news. My father would stay for the night and be discharged the following morning. The good news came on the tenth day.

My father was happy and I could hear them giving praise to God. I was still holding, but crying tears of joy at the news. My mother came back to the phone with me, and I stopped her short, as I had already heard the good news. As soon as I arrived, everyone was there, excited and joyful that daddy was recovering and coming home. I hugged everyone and thanked God for his mercifulness, his greatness. God is everything. He is all Love and wants all of us to be healthy and live a fruitful life. God is Love. I am forever grateful to The Lord. He gave my daddy back to us. Today, my father is eighty-four. He eats, walks, sleeps and tells a good story. He never forgets my name, but at times gets confused with the others. I tell him that he had so many children that its just a crowded house. I believe in fervent prayer and I believe in miracles.

God Bless Everyone!