Who could explain that fateful day? Was it a miracle or a nightmare? I suppose I should begin at the beginning. My husband came home with the weekly groceries .While he was gone my son and I were having a somewhat heated argument. Recently, my husband had grown angry with my son for various reasons, he wouldn’t get a job, had diabetes, but refused to take his medicine, therefore was always sick and a barrage of other things. My son Rick evidently was oblivious to this, and asked why my husband seemed angry. I started explaining it when the truck pulled in the driveway. Vince dragged in bags of groceries, Rick went to help. As we were putting the groceries away, they began arguing. I felt I was being squeezed, and just couldn’t take sides. I couldn’t stand it anymore, and the waterworks started. Rick looked at me, rather annoyed said, “Aw, Mom, don’t start that crap”. I ran to my bedroom and locked the door. I just couldn’t handle the discourse anymore. I left the bedroom and grabbed my winter blue coat. I slammed the front door and left as fast as I could. My husband and son were still arguing so probably never heard me leave.
I started walking at a very fast clip. I headed toward one direction than stopped. Something told me to turn around. I didn’t go back to the house; I passed it, but began walking toward the church. I hadn’t been to church in a while, so don’t know what was leading me there. The church was on the other side of a very busy street, so I had no idea how I was going to cross it. But when I got to the place I would have to cross, the entire street was empty; there was not one car in sight. Puzzled, I crossed the barren street. I began walking very fast again. When I got to the church, the bells started ringing. I looked at my watch; it was exactly 8:00. I found this odd, because the church didn’t usually hold services on Saturday morning. The emotions that overtook me next were unexplainable. I walked inside the church, and Mass had just started. I brought out the kneeler and began to pray as hard as I could. This was something I hadn’t done in a long time, although I kept telling myself I needed to. I usually don’t believe in structured religion, God is in your heart, not a building. However, sometimes being with others, keeps up your faith. It was time for “sign of peace”, where everyone shook hands. A girl two rows in front of me reached back to shake my hand. I said that was probably unwise because I had gotten over a cold. She grabbed it anyway, and said, “Oh, I don’t care, I’ve never even been here before.” Mass continued, we continued with service and the Bible readings. When the priest started the homily, it struck a chord. He was talking about people fearful to come back to the Lord. Was he talking to me?
After Mass, I left, rather dazed. What had just happened? I looked in front of me and the street was busy again. I thought, well, I wasn’t going to get an empty street twice. I would have to walk about half a mile to the crosswalk. But when I got to the street, once again, it was empty. I crossed the road and went home with a euphoric feeling. God had actually pulled me to him. I couldn’t wait to see my family. But as I arrived at my house, I saw a police car. I started to look, but thought it none of my business and went in the house. That’s when my jaw hit the floor. My husband sighed, and said,
“Your son has been arrested for paraphernalia and possible burglary.”
“What on earth are you talking about”, I cried.
My husband began to explain and I felt my heart breaking and knees buckling when my husband told me what had happened.
“Rick went outside to look for you, and because of the rash of burglaries lately, the cops stopped to question him. He got nervous, and they became suspicious. They asked if they could search him, that’s when they found the pipe. They took him home and noticed a partially painted bicycle outside. You know; the one he was painting for Aaron. The police asked who it belong to, but he refused to give the name and address.”
I could feel my heart breaking in two. I went to the police car, than heard my son’s voice, “Mom!” I went over, looked in the back seat wearing handcuffs. He pleaded with me.
“Mom, you have to believe me, this is not mine, its Aaron’s! “
“Why didn’t you tell them that?”
He sighed,
“You know I can’t do that, I’d be a snitch, and get my butt kicked, it’s the code.”
“Code, so you’re going to jail for some else’s crime.”
“I have no choice.”
As the police car away, he yelled, “I love you, Mom”.
What was this, first I feel as though a miracle had happened, than I get stabbed in the heart? Was this a cruel joke? I know my husband wanted him out of the house, and ironically I had prayed for him to have a safe place to stay. They say the Lord works in mysterious ways, but what good could come of this. I’m completely confused. This day had been so strange. As soon as he left, my husband went to his room and began cleaning it out. It was an absolute garbage dump. Only one thing there looked like it was taken very good care of. In the corner of the wall, I saw his Bible that he had been given many years ago by a good friend.
And one more time I ask, was this a miracle or nightmare?
