In January, I rode with my husband, Michael, to his regular yearly eye exam. As we pulled into the mini-plaza, I saw the big red bullseye right next to the doctor’s office. Michael headed in to have his eyes checked, and I headed to Target for some shopping. I browsed for less than an hour, made my way through the check-out, and checked my phone for a text from Michael. There wasn’t one, so I headed to the parking lot, thinking he was probably waiting in the car. But he wasn’t there.
It was taking way too long for a regular eye exam.
When he finally came out, I was standing by the corner of the building, waiting for him. The look on his face told me something was wrong, then he said, “Honey, I’m in a lot of trouble. They think I have…”
Something inside of me told me to stop him. I held up my hand to keep him from finishing. “I am going to pray,” I said. Then I whispered silently, “Dear Lord, help Michael, please.”
I immediately felt like everything would be okay as long as I kept praying, full of faith.
When we got home, I saw the form the eye doctor had faxed to the specialist. It said, “Immediate. Failed the peripheral vision test, 2x.”
We had to wait a month for the appointment with the specialist, giving us plenty of time to worry. I was determined not to speak the “diagnosis” out loud. Whenever I was tempted to search Google or WebMD, I made myself shut the browser window and pray that simple prayer, “Help Michael.”
Michael recently got a new cell phone and, on the day of the appointment, the screen froze. We sat in the specialist’s office, worried and waiting while nervously fiddling with his phone, trying to reset it. Through some combination of our efforts, we somehow engaged the Emergency SOS slider.
Within minutes, the police showed up at the eye clinic. When we realized what we had done, we spent a good few minutes assuring them it was an accident, and all was well.
After they left, Michael had his visit with the specialist. He passed the vision test. His eye pressure was that of a person who doesn’t have glaucoma.
In the car on the way home, I couldn’t help thinking of those emergency responders. The minute we sent the SOS signal, they responded.
In the same way, that simple prayer said in deep faith was the emergency SOS slider that invited the God of miracles to work on Michael’s behalf.
