At 85, Mom was still very independent—until a blockage in her heart sent her to the hospital.
My siblings called me with the news: Mom needed bypass surgery. I hung up the phone and tried to quiet my racing mind.
I have to get to the hospital now, I thought. But the hospital was about 100 miles away, and it was too late to leave tonight. I decided to get all packed so I’d be ready to leave first thing in the morning. I lumbered up to the attic to grab my old suitcase, worrying as I walked. What if something happens to her before I get to the hospital? What if the operation doesn’t work?
I got the suitcase downstairs and brushed off the layers of dust. When I opened it up there was something bright and shiny at the bottom.
What in the world? I picked it up. It was a heart-shaped brooch—one I hadn’t seen for at least seven years.
“Well, I’ll be,” I said. I had chalked that brooch up to being lost forever. Finding it now, right before Mother’s heart surgery, seemed like a sign.
Only after the operation was over and the doctor assured us that Mom would be fine did I tell the family about the brooch I found in my suitcase. It was placed in my luggage by an angel.
From God’s heart to mine.
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