My first miracle happened when I was 12-years-old while bike riding with my childhood friend, Patty Metzger, on the East Side of Bridgeport near my family’s home. Against my better judgement I was wearing my pricey, brand new, authentic camel hair pants. We hadn’t gotten far when I noticed that grease from my bicycle chain had rubbed onto my pant leg! I got off of my bike in distress, and then Patty and I immediately tried to rub the rather large grease stain from the fabric. It was futile; the grease had soaked into the absorbent camel hair fibers.
My mother was a gentle, forgiving soul. But none-the-less, I was horrified at the thought of telling her I had ruined my brand new pants that she had so generously just bought for me. I felt so foolish at having been so careless. I began running home, tears streaming down my face, fervently praying during the one block jaunt. I ran into the house and found my Aunt making dinner. Out of breath, I gasped my story and asked her to help me get out the grease spot. I propped up my leg to show her the stain and was amazed to find that there was nothing there! The entire grease stain was gone! My aunt mumbled something about how it must have been mud, and that the mud fell off while I was running. But Patty Metzger and I knew different. We knew we had tried to scrape the grease off with our nails, and we knew that the grease had soaked into the camel hair fabric.
I’ll never forget this simple, yet profound experience and I will always remember how my prayer was answered in a most welcome and wonderful way. After this experience I knew without a doubt that there is more than meets the eye, and that miracles really do happen!