The Miracle of the Bible
It was the winter of 1996/97 and the entire West Coast was flooded, (including my own home), as the river I once fished from my deck gradually circled the house, turning it into an island. Even though the living room was already under a foot of water and the bathtubs and sinks had been transformed into cascading fountains, I still wasn't quite ready to leave and was busily using my video camera to record every traumatic moment. When suddenly, several firemen waded into my living room and demanded in no uncertain terms that I leave the premises immediately… an order I reluctantly obeyed. The 24 ocean-front acres directly across the street from my house is where we built the "Horse Motel", and although it was closer to the ocean, it was slightly elevated, (in the 500-year flood plain), so I decided to spend the night there, in the main bathhouse, surrounded by water but still feeling safe from the roaring floodwaters.
It was almost midnight when the Curry County Road Department brought their heavy equipment onto the project property and told me that the only way they could drain the flooded valley was to cut a path through our entry road which would then allow the water to drain safely into the ocean. And that, my dear diary, was the end of our seven year project. Without the entry road, the business would be inaccessible and my childhood dream would be finished. Of course I demanded that the Road Department put their assurance in writing that they would repair the breach they made, but they matter-of-factly denied my request, saying that it was an emergency situation (imminent domain) and that there was no time for paperwork.
And that's why I spent the entire day after the flood videotaping the actions of the Road Department as they destroyed the entrance to our property (just in case we ended up in court). But that also meant I wasn't able to assess the damage to my own home until the following day and I have to admit that I dreaded seeing the carnage the raging floodwaters had left behind. My two sons, Scott and Jeremy, had driven the 300 miles from Portland to Gold Beach in the midst of the raging flood, often forced to go around road closed barriers in their 4-wheel drive Bronco and literally risking their lives to get to their mother. And now, here they were, standing beside me as I took my first look at the damage.
And it was even worse than I had expected. Everything I owned was wet and brown; coated with "flood sludge" (which is a smelly combination of silt, road oil and septic overflow). Unfortunately, even those possessions that were placed high enough to have escaped the flood water directly were already fuzzy green with mold and the smell was nauseating. As I looked around me, it was obvious that the flood had claimed almost everything I owned; from the pictures of my children growing up to 30 years of treasures I had so lovingly collected. It was truly a disaster... and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I couldn't stop the tears of self-pity that rolled down my cheeks.
Several neighbors had offered to help and they were busy loading wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow with the soggy, smelly contents of my house. As soon as each wheelbarrow was filled, it was then hauled out to the yard and dumped in a big pile where it would await transportation to the Curry County landfill. Next to the pictures of my children growing up, the thing that hurt the most to lose was my large collection of books proudly displayed in the living and dining room floor-to-ceiling bookcase. I’ve been a writer all my life, and my books were my friends. The bottom shelf held the biggest books, while the second shelf held the smaller ones. The third shelf was occupied by paperbacks and pictures while the fourth shelf was reserved for foosball trophies. I told my kindly crew of helpers that I wanted to be the one to empty the bookcase... giving me one last chance to say goodbye to my treasured friends.
So there I was, crying quietly as I dumped armload after armload of slimy brown books into the wheelbarrow, and yes... I was feeling pretty darn sorry for myself. Not only was my childhood dream of building a “horse motel” at the beach gone, but my plans for the future were gone as well. No flood insurance meant no rebuilding... and since we’d only been open for a few months, (not even close to the one-year needed to establish a business record), we wouldn’t qualify for disaster relief. No home, no business, my children grown, my marriage over (another story)… and nothing left to plan for... nothing left to dream about. And that's when I saw it!
I had just finished loading my first wheelbarrow of destroyed books when I noticed something white on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. But how could that be? Everything the water had touched was slimy brown and yet there it was; one shiny white book. Still unable to believe my eyes, I reached down and carefully pulled that big white book from its place on the bottom shelf. I was stunned! It was not only untouched by the stinking flood-sludge but it was COMPLETELY DRY! It was white and dry! It was a miracle, diary... and the amazing book that survived the flood was the Holy Bible.
It was a large, leather-bound St. James version, with room for genealogy and family history, and it had been one of my most valuable possessions for 25 years. And now here it was, untouched, undamaged, and still sparkling white.
For just a moment, I stood there in silence... hugging that miracle Book close to my heart, and that's when I felt the change. My tears of pain and frustration magically disappeared and I was no longer sad or tired. It was as though when I held that Bible in my arms... all the Earthly traits I had been working so hard to get rid of just floated away. I felt “peace”… where moments before it had been stress. I felt “love”… where before it had been anger. I actually began to laugh as I yelled for my kindly helpers to come and see what I had found. And the message was clear. Yes... the flood could destroy my property, but it could never destroy the things that really mattered, and at that very moment I found myself changed forever. How could I have been foolish enough to mourn possessions that were never really mine in the first place? Instead of being said that I had lost them I now felt blessed to have had them for as long as I did. How could I have gotten so wrapped up in my "earthly" desires that I let myself lose sight of the "big picture"? But now I understood; I would always be rich…as long as I had my faith - and as long as I trusted God.
Most of the people who had come to help were patrons of the tavern next door, and as they ohhh’d and awww’d over the Bible, it became quite clear that they had never owned (or even read) that greatest Book ever written. But now here they stood, wide-eyed and amazed - with no choice but to admit that they had witnessed a miracle. Several of them even commented that "maybe it was time for them to read the Bible", and the tears on my cheeks now were tears of wonder and joy because it was obvious that today... they, too, had been touched by the hand of God.
So after about an hour of excited discussion among my kindly helpers, I set that big beautiful white Bible on a clean dry surface (which was no simple task) where I could look at it as I once again began putting the rest of my water-logged books into the wheelbarrow.
But then something else happened, diary; something so unbelievable that this time I didn't share it with the others. This time I didn't yell for them to come running. This time I was stunned into complete silence. There, on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, I found another dry and undamaged book; one that I hadn't noticed before because it was reddish brown in color and didn't stand out like the big white Bible. But how could that be possible? How could I even utter the name of the second dry book in the same breath as the Holy Bible? I couldn’t! Why? Because it was MY book of handwritten poetry.
I've been an inspirational poet since I was a young child, and that why when I was in high school, a friend bought me a big beautiful gilt-edged book filled with nothing but blank pages on which to record my poetry. All of a sudden it dawned on me... could I have been misusing the gift the Good Lord gave me? I had used it to earn money and gain admiration from others. I had used it to relieve my pain and confusion and to ask heart wrenching questions. So why would the Lord see fit to protect such a worthless book? What was He trying to tell me?
Well, one thing was for sure. If my Lord and Master was sending me a message, I needed to know exactly what it was. So as soon as we finished emptying the house, I decided to ask Him directly. I told my family and friends that I planned to take a few days off to catch up on my rest, and then, for the first time in my life, I fasted, prayed and read that amazing Book. No television, no telephone, no food and no Earthly distractions whatsoever; just me and the miracle Bible, praying for guidance from my Lord.
And on the morning of the 4th day, I received my answer. I was kneeling in prayer on my deck, (which was now hanging over the river at a slant because two of the support beams had been washed away), when I heard the words that will be imprinted on my heart forever.
"Do not worry - everything will be fine. Use your gift as it should be. I will do my part - but you must do yours." The words seemed to surround me as though they came from everywhere all at once and I struggled to find my own voice... to ask whoever was speaking for more details. But I couldn’t move or utter a sound. It was as though my body was no longer mine and it wasn't until the voice stopped speaking that I was able to slowly open my eyes, surprised to find myself face-down on the cold wet deck. I was ecstatic beyond description, diary. The Lord had answered my prayers... but still I found it hard to believe. Could this really be happening?
How could an insignificant gift like mine or a simple sinner like me, deserve such a miracle; such a direct calling from God. But here it was… beyond refute. That deep and powerful voice will ring in my memory forever and I will spend the rest of my life magnifying it a thousand times over in the telling and re-telling of the story. My gift (and my life), now belong entirely to God... and from that moment on I would use it only for His glory.
But there was something else about the voice that I found just as amazing and just as life-changing as the words themselves. It wasn't what I heard; it was what I FELT when I heard it. While I was listening to that warm and loving voice, it sounded so familiar to me that I KNEW it was coming from someone I had always known and loved. And even more surprising...you know how it is when you hear a song from your past and the familiar notes make you feel as though you've gone back in time - back to where you were when you first heard it? Well, for just that moment, it was as though I was at "home" again. Planet Earth no longer felt like home because in my heart, I knew that I belonged somewhere else... somewhere with that loving and familiar voice. No matter how hard I try, no words can possibly describe the emotions that filled my heart as I savored the realization. All I could do was bow my head and cry great sobbing tears... tears of joy and tears of love. I suddenly realized just how much I MISS my Heavenly Father. A feeling of "homesickness" filled my heart and I never wanted to lose site of it again.
And that's why I stayed in that kneeling position, holding on to the feelings, like a dream from which you DON'T want to awake, and thinking to myself, “yes my Lord. I understand". "From this moment forward, I will use my gift to further your Word and to inspire my brothers and sisters.” And then I opened my eyes and looked up... and there was the second-miracle.
And this second-sign was more binding than any signature on a legal document. There, right before my eyes, was the evidence of my covenant with God. Directly over my head, so close that I could almost reach up and touch it, was the brightest and widest rainbow I had ever seen. It looked like it was painted in the perfect blue sky and it stretched from one end of my deck to the other, a distance of not more than 25 feet. Having spent most of my life living in rain-rich Oregon, I've seen hundreds of rainbows and I understand the scientific explanation about the refraction of light on the particles of moisture in the air… which is why they can only be seen in the distance, and why you can never find the "end of the rainbow”. But here it was… directly over my head and so bright it refuses to be described. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I raised my face to the sky and called out rather loudly, "Yes my Lord. I make this covenant with you. >From this moment forward, my life is yours."
There was only one problem; that wondrous voice from beyond didn't give me specific instructions and since the flood had left me with no business, no home and no money, I didn't have the slightest idea HOW I was going to use my gift to make a difference. But that didn't matter because there was no doubt in my mind that the Lord would guide me. And then another feeling overcame me. Suddenly I knew that I couldn't stay here in my beloved little beach town of 2000 people, living each precious day only for myself. I needed to walk among my brothers and sisters. I needed to understand what they were going through and to figure out how I could help. But how? I'd walk if I had to. I'd shout it from street corners. >From this day forward, I would use the gift of words and my ability to influence people as it was intended; to do God's work. And strange as it seems, I felt absolutely no fear or remorse... because I was in God's hands, and all I have to do is close my eyes and remember that familiar and loving voice telling me "not to worry"… that “everything will be fine”. "He will do His part if I will do mine." What more could I need?
And there you have it… the reason I’m on my way to “I know not where” and the reason I’m filled with such joy and freedom from worry. I've been so very blessed, diary… and now the only thing that matters is pleasing my Lord and Master so that I can go "home" again someday.
In every ending lies a new beginning.... and I can't wait to get started!
Abigayle