My tumbling act down three concrete steps wasn’t part of my vacation plans.
A week’s visit to my sister’s home included an afternoon hot tub session at our brother’s house. After that relaxing soak, I headed towel-wrapped and barefoot to our mother’s apartment across the courtyard to change into dry clothes. The Pacific Northwest in springtime means algae everywhere, even on concrete. Wet feet on slimy algae-covered concrete created an accident waiting to happen.
Suddenly, my feet slipped out from under me at the top of the stairs leading to Mom’s apartment. Without thinking, I tucked my chin into my chest, held tightly to my towel, and did a 360-degree roll, coming to rest at the bottom of the three steps.
Family members hurried to my side. Other than a large contusion on my upper left leg, a small lump on my lower right arm, and a bad shake-up, I fared well. Yes, I shed a few tears. After all, concrete is hard, and this hurt—not to mention the embarrassment.
After a warm shower and a muscle relaxer, I rested in my sister’s recliner, distracting myself with a perusal of Facebook and posting about my tumbling act. Then, seeing a private message awaiting me from a long-time friend, I clicked to read it.
She had not heard about my accident but asked if I was okay. The previous night she’d awakened in the wee hours feeling the need to pray—but for whom? My name came to mind, so she prayed.
I replied, “That’s why those angels surrounded me as I tumbled down the stairs.” I considered her petitioning heaven as a preventative measure. Perhaps an angel gave me a gentle nudge to tuck my chin so I could protect my head. And maybe, the angel arms wrapped me tighter than that towel I clung to, preventing broken bones.
When the Holy Spirit prompts us to pray, He has a reason. How can you better listen to the Spirit’s promptings?
(photo courtesy of pixabay.com.)
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