Seventeen years passed, and Steven worked his way through the Air Force Academy and into a job as a commercial pilot. Often when he took to the skies he would thank God for letting his dream come true—flying was everything he’d hoped it would be. But he also wondered about Jimmy, whether doctors were ever able to help him walk again, and even more—whether he had learned to run.
One winter morning Steven had more time than usual after his flight preparations. He nodded to his copilot and motioned toward the cabin. “I’ll be back. I wanna check out the cabin.”
He made his way down the center aisle, smiling and making eye contact with passengers. When he had time, Steven loved to see the people he’d be flying; their faces made him realize the awesome responsibility of taking so many people into the air. He was almost to the back of the plane when he spotted a man who looked familiar.
Steven needed only a few seconds before his breath caught in his throat. He walked up to the man and cocked his head. “Jimmy Rowden?”
The passenger’s eyes fell to the gold name plate and the word Sanders on Steven’s uniform. His eyes grew wide. “Steven?”
“I can’t believe it’s you! I figured I’d never see you again.”
Jimmy shook his head, his eyes damp. “This is too strange.”
Right there, with passengers filling the seats, the two men clasped hands.
“You got your dream, man! Look at you, flying this big ol’ plane.”
They talked about their families—both were married with two children—then the conversation stalled. All Steven could think about was whether Jimmy had gotten the use of his legs back. He opened his mouth to ask his long-ago friend whether he’d gotten his dream, whether he was running or not. But at that moment he spotted a pair of short crutches lying against the empty seat beside Jimmy and a sudden fear seized his heart. If Jimmy still had crutches . . .
His old friend made a small coughing sound and then grabbed the crutches and swung himself up to his feet. He gave Steven a hard hug and a friendly pounding on his back. “Did you pray for me?”
“Yes.” Steven struggled to find his voice. Why hadn’t God healed his friend, given him back the use of his legs? “Yes, I prayed for you all the time. I still do.”
“Me, too.” Jimmy shrugged, a smile stretching across his face. “So I guess God heard both our prayers.”
Steven didn’t know what to say. “What . . .” He couldn’t ask, couldn’t look Jimmy in the eyes after so much time and question whether he’d really gotten his dream or not.
Almost as if he was guessing Steven’s thoughts, Jimmy laughed. “Guess where I’m flying to?”
“Where?” Steven kept his voice lower than before. The passengers were almost completely seated and he’d have to take the cockpit in a few minutes.
Jimmy held his arms out, his eyes dancing. “The qualifying meet for the Olympics, man! I’ve been working on it for a few years now, and I’m a long shot for the 100-yard!”
“The Olympics?” Steven didn’t want to stare, but he caught himself glancing at Jimmy’s crutches.
“The Wheelchair Olympics!” Jimmy leaned against the side of his seat cushion and shook his head. “I still wanna run, and this feels almost the way it did back when I still could. Right before you came down the aisle, I was thinking about that, remembering how we’d take that field shouting, ‘I want to run!’”
“I want to fly.”
“And now . . .” He tossed his hands in the air and gave Steven another hug. “Here we are!”
Steven thought of the odds that he and Jimmy would wind up on the same plane, on the day Jimmy was headed off for the Olympics. A chill passed over him. “You’re right.” He narrowed his eyes, awed at the way things had worked out. “God did hear our prayers. It’s a miracle, after all.”
Note: After reconnecting at that chance meeting on the plane, Steven and Jimmy stayed friends. Jimmy survived the qualifying heat at the Wheelchair Olympics. A few months later, he won gold at the Wheelchair Olympics. Steven flew out to watch the race.
Other Books in the Miracle Series by Karen Kingsbury
A Treasury of Christmas Miracles
A Treasury of Miracles for Women
A Treasury of Miracles for Teens
Life-Changing Fiction by Karen Kingsbury
THE RED GLOVES SERIES
Gideon’s Gift
Maggie’s Miracle
Sarah’s Song (October 2004)
A Thousand Tomorrows (Fall, 2004)
One Tuesday Morning
Oceans Apart
THE REDEMPTION SERIES
Redemption
Remember
Return
Rejoice
Reunion (August 2004)
A Time to Dance
A Time to Embrace
Waiting for Morning
Moment of Weakness
Halfway to Forever
On Every Side
Where Yesterday Lives
When Joy Came to Stay
About the Author
Karen Kingsbury is the bestselling author of more than thirty books and one of America’s favorite inspirational storytellers. Previously a staff writer for the Los Angeles Times and a People magazine contributor, her novel Deadly Pretender was made into a CBS television Movie of the Week. She lives with her husband and six children in the Pacific Northwest.
If you have a miracle story or would like to contact Karen, please e-mail her at
[email protected] or visit her website at www.KarenKingsbury.com.
Also in the Miracles Series by Karen Kingsbury
A Treasury of Miracles for Women
Created especially for women, A Treasury of Miracles for Women is a heartwarming collection of true stories about wondrous events in the lives of ordinary mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, and friends.
A Treasury of Miracles for Teens
Filled with amazing true stories for and about teens, A Treasury of Miracles for Teens shows us that we are never alone, not even in the darkest hour—not even when life takes the most astonishing turns.
A Treasury of Christmas Miracles
Especially during the Christmas season, when we all search for truth and joy, events happen that we can’t explain— perhaps allowing us to see the hand of God at work in the world. A Treasury of Christmas Miracles is a wonderful keepsake or gift for the holidays.
The Red Gloves Series by Karen Kingsbury
Gideon’s Gift
Five years ago, Earl Badgett lost his beloved wife and daughter—and his faith in everything good. Angry and heartbroken, he took to the streets, where he slept in alleys and scavenged food from garbage cans. Now he is in a slow, anguished slide toward ending his life forever. He doesn’t want anyone reaching out to him; he doesn’t need anyone—especially the pesky little girl who refuses to leave him in peace when he stops by the shelter for an occasional meal. But when Gideon Mercer gives old Earl a gift at the mission dinner, neither of them can imagine that the present she’s found will lead him to a heart-wrenching reawakening. Or that someone’s determination to return the favor will begin an unforgettable series of miracles that will reverberate throughout the rest of their lives. For that is the power of faith behind Gideon’s Gift.
The Red Gloves Series by Karen Kingsbury
Maggie’s Miracle
Once upon a time, high-powered New York attorney Megan Wright was “Maggie,” a thirteen-year-old girl who believed in love. But no one has called her Maggie for years. And marriage to a man who never returned her feelings has left her resigned to a life without romance—or faith.
Casey Cummins lost his wife and baby in childbirth—and has struggled to put his memories to rest every hour since. When he signs up to be a mentor for the Healing Hearts program, Megan sees simply a kindhearted man whose humor and resourcefulness can help her son. She never suspects that Casey’s caring and sensitivity will ignite a series of inexplicable and wonderful events that are about to answer this couple’s most heartfelt pr
ayers . . . during a time they will always call Maggie’s Miracle.
Turn the page for an excerpt from Karen Kingsbury’s
Maggie’s Miracle
The letter was his best idea yet.
Jordan Wright had already talked to God about getting his wish, and so far nothing had happened. But a letter . . . a letter would definitely get God’s attention. Not the crayoned pictures he liked to send Grandpa in California. But a real letter. He could use his mom’s fancy paper and his best spelling and go slow so his a’s and e’s would sit straight on the line the way a second-grader’s a’s and e’s should.
That way, God would read it for sure.
Grandma Jean was watching her yucky grown-up show on TV. People kissing and crying and yelling at each other. Every day his grandma picked him up from St. Andrews, brought him home to their apartment in Manhattan, got him a snack and put in the video with her grown-up show. Jordan could make his own milkshakes or accidentally color on the walls or jump on his bed for an hour when Grandma watched her grown-up show. As long as he wasn’t too loud, she didn’t notice anything.
“This is my time, Jordan,” she’d tell him, and her eyes would get that old-lady look. “Keep yourself busy.”
But usually when the show was over she’d find him and make a loud huffy sound. “Jordan,” she’d say, “what are you into now? Why can’t you read quietly like other children?” Her voice would be slow and tired and Jordan wouldn’t know what to do next. Usually he would hug her around the waist and squeeze her tight.
“Sorry, Grandma.” He’d smile at her. “I love you.”
Grandma would nod and pat him on the head and say something quiet and jumbled, something Jordan couldn’t quite understand. She never yelled at him or sent him to his room, but one thing was sure. She didn’t like babysitting him because yesterday Jordan heard her tell his mom that.
“I can’t handle the boy forever, Megan. It’s been two years since George died. You need a nanny.” She did a breathy noise. “The boy’s wearing me out.”
Jordan had been in his room listening. He felt bad, because maybe it was his fault his grandma couldn’t handle him. But then his mom said, “I can’t handle him either, so that makes two of us.”
And after that Jordan felt too sick to eat dinner.
Ever since then he’d known it was time. He had to do whatever it took to get God’s attention, because if he didn’t get his wish pretty soon, well, maybe his mom and his grandma might not like him anymore.
It wasn’t that he tried to get in trouble. But sometimes it was boring looking for things to do, and he’d get curious and wonder what would happen if he made a milkshake with ice cubes. But how was he supposed to know the milkshake maker had a lid? He only touched the button one time but it was too late. Milk and ice cream and pieces of ice cube sprayed over the whole kitchen.
And using paper and a red crayon to trace the tiger on the wall calendar probably wasn’t a good idea in the first place, because of course sometimes crayons slip.
He took the last swallow from his milk and waited until the cookie crumbs slid down the glass into his mouth. Cookies were the best snack of all. He set the cup on the counter, climbed off the barstool and walked real quiet into his mom’s office. He wasn’t allowed in there except if his mom was working on her lawyer stuff and he had to go in to ask her a serious question.
But she’d understand today because a letter to God was very serious business.
The room was big and clean and full of wood stuff. His mom was the kind of lawyer who put bad guys in jail. That’s why sometimes she had to work late at night and on Sundays. Jordan pulled open a drawer near his mother’s computer and took out two pieces of paper and two envelopes. In case he messed up and had to start over. Then he snuck real quiet out the door, down the hall, and into his room. He had a desk and pencils in there, only he never used them because second-graders at St. Andrews don’t get homework till after Christmas.
One time he asked his mommy what would happen if he couldn’t do the homework when he got it, what if the stuff he had to do was too hard.
“It won’t be too hard, Jordan.” His mother’s eyebrows had lifted up the way they did when she was serious about something.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m completely sure.”
“How come?”
“Because, Jordan, I’ve been through second grade and I know all the answers. If you have trouble I’ll help you.”
Jordan’s heart felt a little less scared after that. Not every second grader’s mommy had all the answers. If she knew everything, then he could never really get in too much trouble with his homework, and that was a good thing because Christmas wasn’t too far away.
He sat down at his desk, took a pencil from the box, and spread the piece of paper out. The white space looked very empty and Jordan stared at it for a long time. If God was going to read the letter, it had to be his best work ever. Big words would be a good thing. He worked himself a little taller in the chair, sucked in a long breath through his teeth and began to write.
Jordan’s hand hurt by the time he finished, and he could hear music playing on Grandma’s grown-up show. That meant it was almost done and any minute Grandma would come looking for him. He quick folded the letter in half, ran his finger along the edge, and folded it again. Then he stuck it in the envelope and licked the lid shut. With careful fingers he wrote the word, “God,” across the front, then his pencil moved down a bit and froze. He’d forgotten something.
He didn’t know God’s address.
His heart felt extra jumpy. God lived in heaven, so that had to be part of it. But what about the numbers? Jordan could hear footsteps coming closer, and he didn’t want Grandma to see the letter. She might want to read it, and that would ruin everything because it was a secret. Just between him and God. He looked around his room and saw his backpack near his bed. He ran fast to it and slipped the letter inside. He could give it to his mother on the way to school tomorrow. She would know God’s address.
She knew everything.
Karen Kingsbury, A Treasury of Miracles for Friends
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