Do Miracles Happen?

Recently, I had the privilege to witness joy at the passing of a patient. I got the call as I was on my way to dinner. I turned around and went to the address my triage nurse had given me. Let me preface by saying that I was not supposed to go to this house, it was my colleague's territory and she wasn't answering her phone. It turned out that she was home in bed and someone else was supposed to be covering her calls. That nurse didn't answer the phone either, so I went to do my duty in a place I wasn't supposed to be.

When I pulled up to the address, there was such joy and celebration going on in this home that it seemed more like a party atmosphere than the home where a death had just occurred. I thought this couldn't possibly be the right house. It was. It turns out that this patient was so labored in an effort to breathe that the family joined hands around the patient's bed and sang a traditional Catholic hymn. As they completed their singing, their loved one passed. The family was convinced that this soul had gone to heaven. Their celebration of joy was truly an affirmation of their faith.

With the anniversary of my own mother's passing, my heart and mind were heavy. Walking into this home made me feel that indeed, something special had happened here. Just like it had when my mother passed.

I know I've mentioned this story before, but at the anniversary of my mom's death, it bears repeating. My dad passed away in a local, small community hospital that has about 100 beds. Four years later, my mom passed away in the same hospital, in the same room and in the same bed. No person on earth can convince me that this was a coincidence. I know it wasn't. My Dad came that night to claim her back. The idea still brings me an overwhelming sense of peace. I miss both of my parents very much, but it's experiences like the ones I get to witness routinely as a hospice nurse, that convince me I'll see all of my loved ones again.

When all was said and done the other night and I'd pronounced my patient's death, I went home and pondered why it was me that this particular responsibility fell to. Was it a coincidence that nobody else answered their phones? I don't think so. And besides, I've never really cottoned to coincidence, I am of the belief that for every thing that happens, there is an explanation. Something greater was at work and recognizing my grief, had brought me solace at this, the anniversary of my mother's passing: I got to bear witness to another family's miracle and faith. Today, I give thanks for that.

I'm curious, have you experienced your own little miracles or signs? Do they bring you peace, or do you find these things unsettling?