Innholdsfortegnelse for February - March 2017 i Mysterious Ways

New York City is loud. From my bedroom on any given evening, I hear blaring car horns, noise from the corner bistro, an argument between a couple on the sidewalk. Yet amid this cacophony, I have my most profound inspirations. A notepad by my bed fills with ideas that come to me unbidden—whispered, I believe, by someone near enough to be heard above the sounds of a city that never sleeps. When, where and how do you hear that voice? More than 3,000 respondents took part in the survey in our October/ November 2016 issue, and 68% of you are certain that you’ve heard from God (22% were unsure). Two-fifths of you described it as “a thought or idea that I wouldn’t have had on my own,” while nearly a…

Jennifer Wilder MABLETON, GEORGIA The young, handsome man sitting at the foot of my bed looked so familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He was surrounded by gifts wrapped in bright paper with fuchsia ribbons—gifts for me. I was flattered, but confused. “What are you doing in my room? Who are you?” I demanded. He stood up and hugged me. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said. Just then, I woke up. I’d prayed for help getting over my ex-boyfriend. At 34, I feared I’d be single forever. That dream man comforted me—but who was he? Was he real? Or just a figment of my desires? Over the next few days, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was sure I knew him somehow. Slowly, my mental picture of him…

Maybe you have suffered from it too. Arithmophobia. Fear of numbers. Like 13—especially Friday the thirteenth, the day Buckingham Palace was bombed in 1940, the day the stock market crashed in 1989, the day the Costa Concordia cruise ship sank in 2012. Many buildings in America omit the thirteenth floor. The number 4 in China, the number 17 in Italy and the number 9 in Japan—all are considered cursed or unlucky. I knew numbers were a silly thing to fear, but there was one that haunted me. Seemed to follow me everywhere. If I looked at the time. If I glanced at a calendar. Or checked a restaurant bill. Once, I was driving through an unfamiliar neighborhood and someone emerged from the shadows wearing a football jersey, and there it…

“There was an accident. The train came off the tracks,” my grandmother said. It was dark, but her face glowed in the streetlights. Her hair flowed loose over her shoulders, and she wore a white dress. In the distance, I saw palm trees and a roller coaster. I woke from my nap, startled. My grandmother died a long time ago. She’d lived her entire life in Malaysia. And what was she talking about? In her culture, women wear white and let their hair down to display grief over a tragedy. But what tragedy? I trolled the news, but didn’t find anything about a train accident. Later that week, my son Alex asked if he and two friends could go to a local amusement park. We said yes and agreed to…

Dear Mr. Creator, please tell me what the universe was made for. It was the start of a simple conversation, one George Washington Carver recalled many times over the years. Alone in his laboratory at the Tuskegee Institute, the botanist and inventor was frustrated by his attempts to unravel the secrets of the universe. So he asked God. God’s reply was definitive: You want to know too much for that little mind of yours. Ask for something more your size, little man. Little man? Hardly. As most of us were taught in grade school, Carver was a towering figure in the early twentieth century, a keen observer of nature and a tireless innovator, his accomplishments even more impressive in that they were made against a backdrop of rampant racism. Born…

You won’t find it on a pirate’s map. But 25 feet below the crystal-blue waters off Key Largo, five miles from shore, lies one of Florida’s greatest hidden treasures: “Christ of the Abyss.” The nine-foot bronze statue is one of three cast from a mold made by the sculptor Guido Galletti in 1954. Florida’s version was a gift from an Italian scuba entrepreneur to the Underwater Society of America in 1962. Days after it was submerged, the statue withstood a Category 3 hurricane. It’s now one of Florida’s most inspiring snorkel destinations—a sight worth more than a chest of doubloons. View iconic depictions of Jesus from around the world at guideposts.org/statues…

Deland, Florida Diagnosed with cancer for a second time, unable to walk, Maverick, a nine-year-old golden retriever, seemed near his end. His pet parents, Joey and Alison Maxwell, wanted to give him one last turn around his beloved neighborhood. A sympathetic store manager at Lowe’s provided Joey with a wagon so they could pull Maverick around. “Maverick brings out the best in everyone,” Joey told the Orlando Sentinel. Neighbors showered Maverick with treats and love as the couple pulled his wagon down their town’s main street, then headed home to wait for the inevitable. But the next day, Maverick seemed much better. A CT scan a few days later showed something impossible: Maverick was cancer-free. He can even walk again with the aid of a doggie wheelchair, though he never…

Actor Liam Neeson’s Catholic faith and Irish heritage have helped shape the characters he portrays, whether Farewell he's in a hard-hitting true story like Schindler's List or blockbuster fare like Batman Begins and the Taken series. His most recent role was as a Jesuit priest in the film Silence, which pre’miered last December at the Vatican. Liam grew up steeped in Celtic legends passed on by his mother. One of which proved eerily true when he was first breaking into Hollywood. Liam grew up in Ballymena, Northern Ireland, during the time of violence between Protestants and Catholics known as the Troubles. His father was a custodian of a school; his mother was a cook. According to Liam, his father was the strong, quiet type, who "never said five words when…

Glenn’s habit was to wake up well before sunrise to go for a hike in the Arizona wilderness. On summer Sundays, we’d hike together for an hour before church. Otherwise I’d still be sleeping. The morning he died, a Saturday, I was wide awake. We said, “I love you,” and he kissed me goodbye. The last words he said to me were, “I’ll try to call from the Top of the World,” the nickname for Brown’s Peak, in the Four Peaks Wilderness. He was only 53 years old. We’d been married for 11 and a half years. I had a hard time after the news of his fatal fall. I had to make sense of things, and trust God to help me take one more step. What kept my faith…

I thought I knew death. I knew its stark finality. I’d seen it up close. A nurse is supposed to get used to death, accept it as a fact of life. But witnessing death come to someone who meant the world to me made me question everything. Was death simply a full stop? Was there nothing more? In college, at Dickinson State University in Dickinson, North Dakota, I’d started out as an art major. One day on campus a guy raced past me. He tripped and fell. I knelt down to help and the thought came to me, so unexpected and so strange that I knew it was heaven-sent: I should be a nurse. I added nursing as a second major. After graduation I was hired to work on the…

I was deep into a recurring fantasy— me, basking on a beach in southern California. Tan, relaxed, happy. Not a care in the world. I’d give up my five-coffees-a-day habit for strawberry smoothies. Replace my boring gray business suits and sensible heels for cutoffs and flip-flops. I’d still be a patent lawyer, but I’d work in-house for some nice company with flexible hours and a generous vacation policy. My family would be far away. But sunshine was the only support system I’d need. Ah, yes, I could almost hear the pounding of the surf and— Sirens wailing outside my office jolted me back to reality. I sat up straight. There was little time for daydreaming at the law firm where I worked in Kansas City, Missouri. Billable hours were king.…

Bedsheet Blues Mother was green with envy over our neighbor’s light-blue bedsheets—her favorite color. They hung on the clothesline, and every time Mother passed by on the tractor, she’d say to herself, “Next time Penney’s has a sale, I’m buying myself some blue sheets.” We didn’t have many luxuries when I was growing up, on an 80-acre farm in Indiana. Even though she never worked outside the home, Mother took pride in running our household like an organized business. Before we went out into the field, she put a load of clothes in the washer so it would be ready when we got back. I raked the hay, Mother drove the tractor with the baler, and Daddy loaded the bales into the wagon. Sometimes we’d bale hay for neighbors. We…

To find true love in Rome—what could be more romantic? Like Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck zipping around on a Vespa in the classic fifties movie Roman Holiday. Visiting the Vatican, the Forum, the Colosseum. It was a dream of mine, ever since my girlfriends and I began planning a three-week tour through Europe. I was 34 years old, and I’d never even left North America! Then, crack! I slipped on some Newfoundland winter ice and broke my arm. “I can’t believe my bad luck,” I moaned to a friend. “Maybe there’s a reason you weren’t supposed to go on this trip,” she said. A year went by. I got over my dis-appointment. I didn’t need a Roman backdrop to find true love, after all. I knew just what I…

Lunch at LongHorn Steakhouse wasn’t my first choice. It wasn’t even my second. My husband, Tyler, and I planned to go to Cheddar’s, my favorite restaurant, after church. A little pick-me-up. I’d just quit my job as a nurse to be a case manager. It was more stable and less stressful than working at a big-city hospital. But it didn’t fulfill me. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made a mistake. In church that day, I prayed for guidance, but to no avail. As we drove, I found myself more confused than ever. At least I had lunch at Cheddar’s to look forward to. But there was heavy traffic on the way out of the church parking lot—we had to make a right turn instead of a left. Rather…

Shana Meyerson LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA I couldn’t stop thinking of Grampy on the drive to my niece Eliyah’s Bat Mitzvah. Eliyah was named after my big-hearted grandfather, who died in 1998, five years before she was born. They had the same birthday—today, March 11. I was sad that Grampy wasn’t here to witness such an important religious milestone in his great-granddaughter’s life. Halfway down the 405, “In Color,” by the country-music singer Jamey Johnson, came on the radio. That was the one song that always re minded me of Grampy, a song about a man like him—growing up in the Great Depression, serving in World War II. I sang along, choking on the words. Suddenly traffic on the highway ground to a halt. I glanced out the window at the…

Andrea Arthur Owan I wedged my car into the last available parking space at the medical complex. My son had recently been released from the neonatal intensive-care unit, and this was his first visit to the pediatrician. Maybe I was nervous, because when I opened the passenger door to grab my purse, thwap! The door put a huge dent in the shiny Volvo beside me. Oh, Lord, what do I do now? I had spent the last three months of my pregnancy bedridden, and then nearly lost my seven-weeks-premature baby—I didn’t need any more drama in my life. I began to write a note to the other driver when I heard a pop. I turned back to the Volvo. Dent-less! I ran my hand along the door. Not a scratch.…