Once, an elderly lady decided to do a good deed. She gathered all the things in her house that she no longer needed, items that only cluttered her home and unsettled her mind. Among them were lovely blouses, dresses, hats, skirtsanything that simply took up space. The woman thought, I’ll take all this to the parish church in case someone else could use it. Perhaps the homeless or refugees might find it useful.
She packed everything into a bag and set it aside in the corner. She told herself she’d take it out the next day, then went to bed.
That night, and I know this sounds strange, she had a most unusual dream.
It was as if her soul had drifted away, watching everything happen from above. Her home was bathed in light, brighter than usual, but she was still there in her own sitting room. Her spirit felt delightfully peaceful.
There she stood in the middle of her lounge, with the bag of clothes she had packed with care and meant to take to the church. And before her stood a little girl.
What have you got in your bag? the child asked.
The lady smiled and replied, Ive gathered some things I no longer needthey just get in my way. Im taking them to church tomorrow for someone else who might need them.
Youre very kind, said the girl. But your bag looks quite grubby. Could you give it a wash before you take it, please?
All right, all right,” the lady agreed.
Just dont forget, the child said with a smile, then vanished.
The woman awoke with a start. She leapt out of bed, recalling her odd dream. Was it an angel, or something of the sort?
She glanced at the bag. One by one, she emptied it out, deciding to wash it just in case.
This may sound a bit comical now. People might think the old lady daft for giving such significance to a dreamsome would call her superstitious. I used to think so myself, until what came next.
In another flat, in the very same building, a new baby boy was bornnot the first child, but the second. His parents, overjoyed, decided to invite friends and relatives to celebrate.
Many guests arrived, offering congratulations and gifts. But the parents, being a bit superstitious themselves, asked everyone to refrain from fussing over the baby or complimenting his appearance, for they believed it would bring bad luck. So, the guests, rather than contradicting the hosts, decided to look upon the baby and pretend to find fault.
Oh, what a plain-looking child, theyd say, waving a dismissive hand. Hes not much to look at, bless him.
Each guest repeated the same lines before joining everyone else in the next room. The parents looked relieved.
The older brother, however, had heard it all. He watched as everyone showed such disappointment over his little brother. And so he reasoned, If the babys so dreadful, why bother keeping him at all?
Without giving it much more thought, he grabbed his brother and ran to the balcony, tossed him over the edge as he would a broken toy.
My breath caught in my throat when I heard what had happened. Everything could have ended in tragedy if Providence hadnt intervened.
And heres where the old lady, the one from my earlier story, returns. She lived just one floor down.
Shed finally finished washing the bag and hung it out on the washing line beneath her window.
At that very moment, the baby boy fell, as if straight from the sky, landing safely in the freshly laundered bag.
By the time the parents noticed the unusual quiet from the other room, it was almost too late. They found their older son on the balcony and rushed about looking for the baby, who was nowhere to be seen. When they questioned the older boy, he responded simply:
Well, hes ugly and unwanted. So I threw him away.
The mothers heart nearly gave out. The father dashed outside to search. By nothing short of a miracle, their baby was safe and unharmed.
What a blessing! the parents wept as they held their son close.
And who did they thank? Who do you suppose? The grandmotherly lady, of course. Not a single word about Providence. Only the old lady herself recognised that blessings like these dont simply happen by chance. She hadnt even intended to wash the baghad it not been for that angelic child in her dream.
Why is it, I wonder, that people are so quick to chalk it all up to good luck, and never think to offer their thanks to God?
I pondered this for quite some time. I thought about it from every angle but never quite understood. Maybe everyone finds their own reason in the end. As for me, Ill say just this: I dont believe in chance. I thank God for every turn of fortunefor what miracle ever happens without His hand?
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