Dear Friends,

Kindly read through the mail and ponder on the message it conveys.

Love & Prayers
Jennifer

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Breath of God

Life's a little thing!  Robert Browning once wrote.
But a little thing can mean a life.  Even two lives.
How well I remember.  Two years ago in
downtown Denver my friend, Scott Reasoner,
and I saw something tiny and insignificant change
the world, but no one else even seemed to notice.
It was one of those beautiful Denver days.
Crystal clear, no humidity, not a cloud in the sky.

We decided to walk the ten blocks to an outdoor
restaurant rather than take the shuttle bus that
runs up and down the Sixteenth Street Mall.  The
restaurant, in the shape of a baseball diamond, was called
The Blake Street Baseball Club.  The tables were set
appropriately on the grass infield.
Many colorful pennants and flags hung limply overhead.
As we sat outside, the sun continued to beat down
on us, and it became increasingly hot.  There wasn't a
hint of a breeze, and heat radiated up from the tabletop.
Nothing moved, except the waiters, of course.
And they didn't move very fast, either.

After lunch Scott and I started to walk back up the mall.
We both noticed a mother and her young daughter
walking out of a card shop toward the street.
She was holding her daughter by the hand while reading a
greeting card.  It was immediately apparent to us that she
was so engrossed in the card that she did not notice a
shuttle bus moving toward her at a good clip.  She
and her daughter were one step away from disaster when
Scott started to yell. He hadn't even gotten a word out
when a breeze blew the card out of her hand and over
her shoulder.

She spun around and grabbed at the card, nearly knocking
her daughter over.  By the time she picked up the card
from the ground and turned back around to
cross the street, the shuttle bus had whizzed by her.  She
never even knew what almost happened.

To this day two things continue to perplex me about this event.
Where did that one spurt of wind come from to blow
the card out of that young mother's hand?  There had not been
a whisper of wind at lunch or during our long
walk back up the mall.

Secondly, if Scott had been able to get his words out, the young mother
might have looked up at us as they continued to walk into the bus.

It was the wind that made her turn back to the card -- in the one
direction that saved her life and that of her daughter.  The passing
bus did not create the wind.  On the contrary, the wind
came from the opposite direction.

I have no doubt it was a breath from God protecting them both.
But the awesomeness of this miracle is that she never knew.
As we continued back to work, I wondered how God often
acts in our lives without our being aware.

The difference between life and death can very well be a little thing.

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