A Treasury of Miracles for Teens (3 page)

But the day after they returned home, Jared began coughing. A person with cystic fibrosis lives with the constant threat of
pneumonia. By the next day, it was clear that’s what Jared had, and their parents rushed him to the hospital. Over the years,
Jared had suffered with pneumonia more times than Julie could remember. But this time was the worst
any of them could remember. Immediately doctors began antibiotics and placed Jared on oxygen.

That had been two days ago. Now, doctors had just met with the Keller family and told them the situation.

“I can’t promise anything,” the doctor had told them. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t look like he’s going to make it this time.”

Their parents held on to each other and wept when the doctors left the room. With all her heart, Julie wanted to tell them
to pray, to beg God for a miracle. But she’d tried that before and every time her parents shut her down. “We don’t believe,”
they’d tell her. “Don’t push your faith on us.”

So Julie watched them without saying a word. Finally her mother turned to her, her eyes still wet with tears. “We’re going
to the cafeteria for some coffee. Wanna come?”

“No … I’ll wait here.” Julie managed a weak smile. “In case Jared needs me.” The moment they were gone, Julie exhaled long
and slow.

God,
she prayed silently,
don’t let my brother die. The two of us share everything.
That had been true ever since they were small children, but especially once they entered high school. Julie was a cheerleader,
popular and outgoing, with dozens of friends. Jared was quieter, slender and weak from his illness. But because of Julie,
he was constantly showered with attention. By the end of the previous year, he’d
been named Most Fun To Be With in their sophomore class.

“It’s so cool,” one of Julie’s friends had said the week before at youth camp, “how you and your brother are best friends.
I wish I had something like that with my brother.”

Now, after the greatest week together in their lives, it looked like she might lose Jared. The thought tore at Julie’s heart
and made it hard for her to breathe. She hung her head and let the tears come.

The minutes passed slowly and all Julie wanted was to leave the waiting room and find Jared. Maybe if he heard her voice,
felt her hand on top of his … Maybe then he’d find the strength to hang on, even one more day. But the doctor had asked them
to stay away for now. He needed his rest if he was going to make progress against the fast-moving pneumonia.

“Lord,” Julie whispered. “Please help my brother. I love him so much, and I know he’s scared right now. Please help him breathe.
Make the pneumonia go away.”

At that instant, Julie heard someone enter the room through the open door. She looked up and saw a small man dressed in janitorial
clothing pulling a mop and water bucket on wheels. Something about the man’s face seemed unnaturally kind, almost glowing.
Julie stared at him curiously. His uniform was rumpled, and he was slightly stooped over.

“I have something to tell you,” the man said. His voice was so soft, Julie had to slide forward on the vinyl hospital sofa
to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“There’s something you need to know.” The man smiled and again Julie felt warmed by his presence. Did she know him from somewhere?
Church, maybe? He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers. “It’s a message from God.”

Julie’s hands trembled and her mind raced. A message from God? Who was the man and where had he come from? She leaned forward
so she could hear him better. Normally she was afraid of strangers, but not this time. The man seemed like someone she’d known
all her life. She waited as the man took one more step toward her. His smile was gentle and it calmed her anxious heart.

“Your brother’s going to be okay.” The man winked at her. “Remember the words from Malachi 4:2.”

A dozen questions flashed in Julie’s head, but before she could ask one of them, the man turned and left, pulling his mop
and water bucket out of the room.

“Wait!” Julie jumped up and raced toward the door. She stepped into the hallway expecting to see the man a few feet away,
but he was gone. None of the other doors in the hallway were open. The nurses’ station was ten yards down the hallway, but
Julie could see only a single nurse standing behind
the counter. Julie’s heartbeat doubled and her mouth hung open. How had he gotten away so fast? And who was he, anyway? No
one could move that quickly, especially pulling a bucket of water.

Julie waited a moment, looking up and down the hallway in both directions, hoping to see him dart out from one of the other
rooms. But after a while she turned around and moved slowly back to her seat. How had the man known about Jared? Could he
possibly have known that she was waiting for news about whether her brother would live through the night? And what about his
message. Malachi 4:2? Julie didn’t have her Bible with her, so there was no way to know what the verse said.

After almost a minute, Julie stood up again and headed for the nurses’ desk. There was no way she could let the man get away
without talking to him, asking him the questions that plagued her. As she walked toward the lone nurse behind the counter,
she steadied her voice. This was no time for tears.

“I need to speak with one of your hospital janitors, please.” Julie hesitated. “He was small, about this tall.” She used her
hand to show how high the man had stood. “He stopped by the waiting room here a few minutes ago. I’m not sure where he is
right now, but I need to talk to him. Could you page him?”

“Hmmm, that doesn’t sound right.” The nurse pulled a stapled set of pages from a nearby drawer and scanned it slowly. “That’s
what I thought.” She looked up at Julie, her tone puzzled.

“What?”

“The janitors …” She looked briefly at the paper once more. “They’ve all gone home. They left three hours ago.”

“No.” Julie shook her head. “There must be someone else, another janitor or something. The one I talked to walked right into
that room.” She pointed toward the waiting room. “I just talked to him three minutes ago. He’s somewhere down that hallway.”

“Well, all I can tell you, honey, is he doesn’t work at this hospital. Our janitors went home. They’re all off the clock.
Besides, I don’t think we have a janitor that fits the description you gave me.”

Julie took a step back and turned around. With slow movements, she made her way back down the hall to the waiting room and
her place on the vinyl sofa. There she dropped her head in her hands and prayed again. God,
was that for me? That man … his message?
She exhaled hard and noticed that her hands were shaking. If he wasn’t a janitor for the hospital, who was he? And how had
he known about Jared? The questions ricocheted in Julie’s soul until she heard someone entering the room again.

She looked up expecting to see her parents, but this time it was Jared’s doctor.

“Are your parents around?”

Julie nodded, struggling to find her voice. “They’re down in the cafeteria. They’ll be right
back.” She was afraid to ask the next question. “How’s Jared?”

A smile worked its way across the doctor’s face. “Well, I guess I can tell you.” The doctor shrugged. “It’s nothing short
of a miracle. Jared wasn’t breathing well at all. In fact, ten minutes ago we thought we were losing him. Then he began coughing
and in a few minutes he was breathing normally again. We took an X ray, and … I can’t explain it. His lungs are dramatically
better. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You mean, he’s okay?” Fresh tears filled Julie’s eyes.

The doctor’s smile faded some. “He’s sick, you know that. There’s nothing any of us can do about his cystic fibrosis. But
he’s out of danger. At least for now.”

When Julie’s parents returned, she shared the good news with them. The joy on their faces was instant and it tugged at Julie’s
heart. A prayer worked its way silently across her soul.
Thank you, God. You’re so good to give us a little more time.

Then Julie looked from her mother to her father and back again. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, dear.” Her mother came up alongside her and touched her shoulder.

“I think I saw an angel.”

Her mother withdrew her hand and twisted her brow. “An angel? Why, Julie, whatever would make you say that?”

Julie took a deep breath and told them the story about the janitor and his message. For the first time since she and Jared
had started believing in God, her parents actually listened. But it wasn’t until she got home and checked her Bible that her
parents’ attitude toward faith changed forever.

The verse talked about revering God’s name so that healing would come.

“Even the doctors said Jared’s turnaround was a miracle,” their mother said later that night. “Who are we to disagree?”

As for Julie, she never forgot how close she came to losing her brother that morning. After that, she always kept the verse
about healing tucked away in her heart. She recited it again and again each time she found herself in that lonely hospital
waiting room praying for her brother to have one more summer, one more season. One more day. She never had another visit from
the mysterious messenger, but she remained convinced that the man had been an angel, sent to reassure her when she needed
it most.

Seven years later, when. Jared passed away one cool September morning, Julie was at his side, and so were her parents. They
were believers now, people who had come to believe in the very real presence of God in their lives. That day Julie spoke the
words from that special Bible verse at his funeral service.

“My brother’s entire life was a miracle,” she told a crowd of several hundred who had come to bid her brother good-bye. “But
it took a certain visitor one summer night to remind me that God was in control. My brother’s in heaven now and for the first
time his healing is complete.” Then she looked up toward heaven, tears streaming down her face.

“I love you, Jared. Save me a spot at the lunch table.”

B
en Wiggins had two sisters, but he never knew either of them. The first died at birth. And the second died tragically at age
two. He grew up as an only child, and he never forgot how much his parents had lost.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” he’d tell her when he was old enough to drive. “You’ll always have me around. I’m never going anywhere.”

Ben’s mother, Sarah, would grin sadly and rough up her son’s dark brown hair.

“God has taken two of my babies home,” she’d say. “But he knows how much a mother can handle, Ben. You’re the one he left
for me and your father.”

But when Ben turned eighteen, he enlisted in the U.S. Army. Not long after, the Gulf War began and Ben was assigned a place
on the front line. The idea of losing Ben on a battlefield thousands of
miles from home terrified his parents, but they prayed constantly for their son and believed God would protect him.

“Please, God, let us know when he needs our prayers,” Sarah would pray each night. “And bring Ben home safely to us. He’s
all we have left, Lord.”

The initial drive of the Gulf War figured to be the most dangerous. A solid line of U.S. troops took their position against
Iraq and prepared for battle. Ben was among them, silently praying words of his own.
God, be with me. Let me survive this battle. Please, God.

Finally, the moment of battle arrived and Ben pressed across the border into Iraq, shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of Army
men. The battle that ensued was intense and fast. One hour led to two and it looked as though the U.S. troops would be wildly
successful.

During a brief lull in the action, Ben was resting for a second when he felt someone grab his arm. He spun around and looked
straight into the eyes of an Iraqi soldier, a teenager like himself. The man had a gun aimed directly at Ben’s face.

In angry, short bursts the Iraqi shouted something in a language Ben couldn’t understand. Ben stood there, afraid to move.
Suddenly the man hit Ben on the side of the face with the butt of the rifle, and pointed in the opposite direction from his
squad. Ben had no choice but to start walking.

God! Help me! Please
…

Several times over the next few minutes Ben considered shouting for help. Instead, he snuck a look behind him every few seconds
and realized his squad hadn’t noticed his disappearance. That meant one thing: He was on his own, marching at gunpoint toward
the enemy’s camp.

The Iraqi soldier ordered him up a hill onto a sandy desert bluff where they stopped. Again the soldier barked something at
him. Ben blinked, not knowing what to do. His mouth was dry and his heart felt like it had slipped into a pit in his stomach.
God, what’s happened? How did I get here? Don’t let me die, God.

At that instant, the soldier kicked Ben and pointed to the ground. Fearing for his life, Ben lowered himself to the dusty
ground below. Again the soldier kicked at him, forcing him to lay on his stomach.
This is it, God. I’m not going to make it without a miracle.
A dozen memories flashed through Ben’s mind. His high school soccer team celebrating a state title two years earlier, his
girlfriend dancing with him at the prom, his parents praying for him before he left.

His parents! That was it! He knew his mother was praying for him every day—she’d promised she would. The Iraqi soldier barked
something else and dug the tip of the rifle into the back of his skull. Ben drew a shaky breath, not sure whether it would
be his last. Then he closed his eyes, buried his face in
the powdery desert dirt, and prayed like he’d never done before.
God, please let my mother know I’m in danger. She should be praying for me.

Moments earlier, across the world in Austin, Texas, Sarah Wiggins sat up straight in bed and screamed.

“Al, wake up!” Her voice was frantic and her husband shot up, his eyes wide and disoriented.

“What is it?” he asked breathlessly.

“It’s Ben. He’s hurt or in trouble. Something’s wrong, Al. I can feel it.”