Unexpected blessings

Blessings often come at unexpected times and in most unexpected ways and shapes.

Some years ago, a woodworker and the woman pledged to become his wife, made a long journey to pay their taxes without making an overnight reservation near the tax office. To their disappointment, when they arrived, all lodging facilities were booked. To make matters worse, the woman was expecting a child, and sorely needed a place to rest.

Come to think about it, I’m not sure how she made it that far. There were no planes, trains, or Greyhounds at the time. I don’t think they even had a donkey. They had walked.

They had to bunk in a sort of a barn. And share it with livestock. The baby came that night. The only place they had to put it was in an empty feed trough.

And it became the most publicized nursery in history. It’s still talked about today. They named that little baby, Jesus.

Many miracles followed the rest of His life.

It wasn’t really “unexpected,” however. It had been prophesied by the prophets and even God himself had promised a Savior. But nobody knew when, where, or how it would come. God may appear slow to some in fulfilling promises, but He’s never late.

Rainstorms after a drought can almost fall into the miracle category, too, at times. One occurred on December 19, 1991. We were invited to a friend’s Christmas party. They lived near Bull Creek, in West Austin. The rain began just before party time on a Friday evening. My wife was coming from work in town and was late. The rain had increased. I began to worry.

Sometime later, she arrived. Soaking wet. Bull Creek had left its banks and her car became flooded- out as she turned off RM 2222 onto Lakewood Drive. She sloshed about a quarter mile to the party, some of it through Bull Creek runoff. We didn’t try to get her car until the next day.

The rain continued, causing the largest flood on the Colorado River since Mansfield Dam was built in 1937. Many homes along the river were flooded. Some in the flood plain floated.

The unexpected blessing was that Lake Travis, which had been low due to the drought, rose 16-feet in 24-hours. It topped-out at 710-feet above sea level. It’s considered at ‘full pool” at 681-feet.

Rain continued off and on throughout Texas into the new year. Johnnie Hudman, a long-time hunting guide in Albany, reported that the Rolling Plains area was blessed with abundant quail for some time after that. Quail are considered an indicator species of a healthy habitat.

Combined with land managers employing brush sculpturing, rotational grazing, and other techniques, the rain also helped the area produce its first trophy-size whitetails. Prior to that time, most hunters felt like the largest antlered deer were only found in South Texas. That changed.

Lake Travis is again low – 50-feet and falling in mid-December. But don’t give up hope. Christmas is miracle season!