Indholdsfortegnelse for April - May 2017 i Mysterious Ways

Has there been a dog in your life that you felt was put there for reasons beyond simple, loving companionship? For reasons perhaps only God knows? On page 20 I’ve shared with you an excerpt from my new book, Always By My Side: Life Lessons From Millie and All the Dogs I’ve Loved. If there was a single reason I wrote the book, it would be this remarkable incident with my beloved golden retriever Millie; an incident best told in Mysterious Ways magazine, where people experience life-changing moments that defy earthly explanation. Ostensibly my book is about dogs—specifically Millie, whom my wife, Julee, and I lost to cancer two years ago. But really the book is about love, the love that God mysteriously brings to us through the dogs he…

Why, God, why? Why me? That’systery’veeenrestling with since I was 14 years old. I had just undergone brain surgery to remove a benign cyst sitting on my optic nerve. I woke up sick every morningorearlyearromaking the medications I would now be on for life. My hair wouldn’t grow back the same. I felt like an outsider at school. I turned to my parents and to my twin sisters for support. Still, it took a long time for me to recover. Then, at age 24, when life finally seemed to be getting back to normal, another blow. Multiple sclerosis. Just like that, my life became a series of MRIs, daily injections that left painful welts and even more unanswered questions. Would I lose my ability to walk one day? Would I…

I sat in my car at the McDonald’s drive-through, staring at the steering wheel and waiting for the line to move.What in the world was I doing here? I’d been in the middle of shopping when I was hit by a major cheeseburger craving. Not just any cheeseburger. One from McDonald’s. Another fast-food joint was closer and I hadn’t eaten McD’s in ages, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. So I’d driven out of the way to get it. I guess nothing in my life made much sense these days. It had been two years since I graduated college, but the plans I had were going nowhere. My engagement had been called off, and my love life was in disarray.As much as I enjoyed my job as…

Eight-year-old Jen Bricker was glued to the television.It was 1996 and the second-grader and her parents were in their living room, not wanting to miss a single min-ute of the Summer Olympics, broadcasting live from Atlanta. Her eyes widened as 14-year-old gymnast Dominique Moceanu soared, flipped and twisted through the air, becoming the youngest American athlete ever to win a gold medal. It was Dominique’s appearance, however—her caramel-tinted skin and big, dark eyes; her small, powerful frame—that was transfixing. No one in tiny Hardinville, Illinois, had that look. No one except Jen. She felt as if she were watching herself. “I was infatuated with her, practically obsessed,” Jen recalls today. “Not only did she look like me, but she had the same fiery personality and we both loved gymnastics.” Dominique’s…

I’d never had a dream like the one I had that night, in October of 1990. My spirit soared, unattached to my body. I felt weightless and exhilarated. Below me, the earth was made up of shimmering colors: iridescent greens, saturated blues and velvety browns. A sourceless energy kept me aloft. Suddenly, a young man appeared—Kevin, a childhood friend and neighbor, whom I hadn’t seen since my family moved when he was a little boy. Now he was all grown up. I motioned for him to come to my side, and he glided next to me. We communicated without words. He was confused. I sensed there were people waiting for him, and I told him it was okay and to follow me. We flew over a valley, stopping above a…

Amid the grassy slopes, eucalyptus and tree frogs at Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve in Oakland, California, lie five labyrinths—circular mazes up to 100 feet wide—carved into the park’s canyons. “It was a beautiful spot that had an energy of goodness and peace,” says sculptor Helena Mazzariello, who built the first in a former quarry “as a gift to the world.” Persons unknown then extended Helena’s labyrinth and formed the others. After the structures were in danger of being removed, hikers and others convinced authorities to declare the labyrinths an official historic and cultural site. Visitors find healing at the labyrinths, leaving behind messages, trinkets and prayers. Discover a world of holy hidden hot spots at guideposts.org/secretspaces…

Rock Hill, South Carolina Romantic setting? Check. Friends and family on hand to celebrate the moment? Check. Ring? Uh-oh.… Daniel Frye, a Marine veteran, had the perfect proposal planned for his girlfriend, Lauren Williams, WCNC Charlotte reports. He had arranged a day trip to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, North Carolina. But just as he was proposing, Daniel realized his pocket was empty. The couple believed the ring had been stolen. Perhaps it would have been gone forever, if not for the intercession of a mysterious stranger. A few days after the ringless proposal, Lauren got a Facebook message from a woman in Athens, Georgia: “Honey, I think I have your ring—it’s one crazy story.” The woman had been leaving the Biltmore Estate gift shop, on the shuttle to the…

I had a moment of panic when my phone buzzed and Hatti’s number popped up. Why was my daughter calling from the road? She was on a long drive from Henderson to Dallas, and weather reports said a bad storm was rolling in. Had she had an accident? “Mom, relax,” she said, hearing the familiar worry in my voice. “I was just wondering if you could call ahead to your friend and ask her to order dinner for when I get to her place. I lost her number.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, but just so you know, Deana’s a fitness fanatic—none of your usual Canadian bacon–and–pineapple pizza at her house!” We both laughed. The second I hung up, though, I started to worry again. I knew Deana…

Do you know who John Woolman was?ewo.n8th-centurymer-ica, before the Revolutionary War, he was one of the most prominent colonists to speak out against slavery and recruit others to the abolitionist cause.isassionasorehan simple moral outrage—it was rooted in a mystical sense of purpose. Two and a half years before he died, Woolman fell gravely ill—“brought so near the gates of death that I forgot my name,” he later wrote in his journal. He wanted to know who he was, and observing around him over several hours, he noticed in his dreamlike state “a mass of matter of a dull gloomy color.” This was hu manity in all its suffering, and he was mixed in with it so that he had no separate or distinct identity. Then at once came a sweet…

My mom used to tell me stories of growing up in the Mexican village of St. Teresa in the 1940s. Mom’s father died young, leaving my grandmother, Abuelita Matilda, a nurse and midwife, with seven children and a thousand-acre cattle ranch to oversee. “Thieves stole Abuelita’s cattle,” Mom told me. “They were our neighbors.” Abuelita had forgiven them, but I committed the family’s name to memory. How could they hurt the kindest soul I ever met? I grew up to become a nurse too. One day in 2010, my hospice colleague called in sick and I covered her patient, an elderly woman with terminal cancer. The patient and I clicked right away. She reminded me of Abuelita, and I asked where she was from. “A little village in Mexico,” she…

I knew nothing. Saw nothing. Heard nothing. Felt nothing. I was in darkness. Immobile. I didn’t know who I was, where I was. I had no memories. No past. No words. I didn’t even know my name. Yet I was not afraid. I was not alone. All around me, infusing the darkness, was love. Love. This I knew, somehow. It filled me like breath. Held me with gentle hands. Surrounded me with peace and well-being. This love created me, I thought. I’d been born, born from this love—my Creator, the Creator of everything. The Creator loved everything it created, and at this moment I was the only thing there was. If this was all I ever knew, I would be content. Content to remain washed in love by my Creator…

I can’t imagine life without a dog to love. Maybe that’s because so many of the dogs I’ve known have performed the miracle of making me a better human being. One such dog was my beloved golden retriever Millie. Millie, aka Millie Jo McCallister, aka Millicent Johanna de Flanders (her sire, Petey, was Flemish), aka Millicent!!! when she was bad (which was rarely) or just plain everyday MJ, was my eight-year-old “Devon cream,” large and muscular, taking after her mother, Maggie, but so decidedly feminine in deportment and temperament that it outraged me whenever someone mistook her for a boy. I hadn’t planned to drive to Massachusetts that muddy March weekend but my wife, Julee, a singer, had back-to-back rehearsals, so Millie and I ventured north from New York City…

On the long-running TV drama Law & Order: SVU, Lieutenant Olivia Benson has little time for life beyond pursuing perps and counseling crime survivors. In the real world, however, family is everything to actress Mariska Hargitay, who met her husband, actor Peter Hermann, on set.They were both from large families and wanted a big one for themselves, but their struggles made them wonder if it would take a miracle. “I learned at a very young age that anything can happen,” Mariska said in 2012. “God runs the show.” The previous spring, she and Peter decided to adopt a sibling for their son, August, whom Mariska had at age 42.The Process tested their faith. Several leads on domestic adoptions didn’t pan out.One young woman seemed happy her child would after the…

Ann Satterfield vividly remembers her first patient as a hospital chaplain intern in New York City. A man in his sixties, whom she calls Mr. C, had just been told he had only days to live. In his last hours of lucidity, Mr. C was angry at the prospect of leaving his loved ones behind so soon. Trained to minister to the dying and comfort the bereaved, Ann prayed with the man and his teenage daughter, then gave them some time alone. She returned later to find Mr. C drifting in and out of consciousness. Ann asked him if he wanted her to stay. He nodded weakly. Finally, he turned on his side to face her. Their eyes met, and the air and energy in the room suddenly changed. As…

Annie Williams My five-year-old son, Kyle, woke up with a bad cold. I told him he should spend the day inside resting. Before I knew it he was sitting at his favorite spot on the couch, snuggled up next to his dad, watching the NASCAR Sprint Cup Race. Just then, team owner Joe Gibbs’s young grandson began saying a prayer to officially open the race. “Can he pray for me to feel better?” Kyle asked. Before I could explain that the boy didn’t know him, and certainly couldn’t hear his request, the child on TV concluded, “And please bless Kyle!” My son’s face lit up. I could have told him that the blessing was meant for driver Kyle Busch, but I let it go—besides, I think it really was for…