A Miracle, and a Prologue

I was standing at my friend’s desk, visiting briefly, when the call came in.

“Yes, that would be Lynn. She’s standing right here,” and handed me the phone.

“Lynn, this is Plaintiff Attorney. We’ve spoken in the past, and I’m not sure why I’m calling you, but there have been some interesting things going on in my life the past two weeks, and because you’re who you are, I knew you would understand.”

This is where the prologue comes in.

Maybe a year ago, he was in our office to depose our client. Somebody was running late: court reporter, videographer, possibly our client, possibly his. Before the deposition began, and with the door closed to the conference room which adjoins the front office, he began to play some sort of pre-recorded media, in which a booming male voice dropped F-bombs.

We know how much I hate the F-bomb.

Our attorney, who is a very quiet, very gentle bear of a Christian, was not in that room. When he came up from the back part of the office [he was not in his office, or I would have called him there], I asked him to please deal with it. He did. The barrage ceased, and Plaintiff Attorney came out of the office, walked up to me, and apologized profusely and sincerely.

I think our attorney had told him that I was LDS and deeply religious. He spoke with me again after the deposition, reiterating his apology and telling me that once upon a time he and his wife had been LDS, that each had served a mission in their youth, but that they were now attending another church.

In subsequent visits to the office, he has remained cordial and professional.

I will not share the details of yesterday’s conversation; this is, after all, his miracle, and his wife’s. Suffice it to say that in the past two weeks Heaven has been stirring the pot in subtle ways, and he is suddenly finding himself back at sacrament meeting, two weeks in a row, when he has not attended in twenty years.

He asked me to pray for them.

Non-coincidentally, I have a good friend in his ward, somebody I met through the dinner group. I am putting her in the loop, and I have quietly asked the two attorneys in our office whom he has grievously offended to also pray for him.

One short phone call; at least four lives potentially blessed, and I am once again awestruck at how small moments may bring great things to pass.

No miracles in the knitting department, just quiet steady progress on the Lace Ribbon Scarf and one ball of Malabrigo hand-wound last night to start the collar for Autumn Asters. I do believe I will cast on while the tub fills.