Mute answers

Sister Amy and I punched the elevator button for floor B again, and yet again, the elevator doors closed and then instantly reopened.
"We need to take the stairs then ," I said, frowning at the dystfunctional elevator.
We headed to the stairs, and noticed that the sign indicated we were already on floor B.
"The elevator was trying to tell us all along," I laughed, "It was speaking as clearly as a nonverbal inanimate object could."

Amy gets her CT scan this morning and then immediate consult with the doctor to discuss course of treatment. I prayed with her as we started our crack of dawn drive to the Dallas hospital.
"Dear Lord, please let the test results yield a miracle. That Amy's pancreas will be completely healed and normal and no further incidents will happen . We pray as always for your will, and ask for your mercy and compassion. Amen."
"That might be a tall order," said Amy.
"Well, He may choose not to answer it the way we want, but He certainly could produce a miracle," I said.
"So how come He doesn't get the blame for not answering,but gets the praise for when things go well?"
"Cause how many of us praise Him for all the miracles He is constantly providing....like thanking Him each time we draw a breath?"

God is a lot like the elevator. We may not hear Him....and we might be standing in the very place He meant for us to be and not even know it. Meantime, Amy and I are waiting for the CT scan and praying for a miracle.

Psalm 65:2 NIV

You who answer prayer,
to you all people will come.

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