Our fish miracle
Our fish miracle
By Jessica Brodie
My 12-year-old daughter decided to clean her fish tank yesterday. It was incredibly bad timing, as I was busy getting ready to go out of town and simultaneously preparing for production on the newspaper I run, and besides, cleaning the fish tank is a chore I typically supervise. But in a stroke of independence, she went for it.
I came upstairs to find her betta fish in a little container of water on the dresser, and her elbows-deep in her bathroom scrubbing away at the tank’s gunk and grime. Our cat, sprawled lazily on my daughter’s bed, didn’t seem to notice there was a yummy fish snack nearby, so I ignored the cat and pitched in to help.
We got the tank all set up again, filled it with water, and carried it back to the room for the antibacterial water treatment. Stitch the fish was still in the tiny container on the dresser. Then I went back downstairs to finish work.
About 15 minutes later, I walked back into the room to check on things and noticed the tiny container was empty.
“Did you put Stitch back in his tank?” I called out, for I couldn’t see him swimming anywhere.
“No!” my daughter called back from the shower.
I shot a glance toward the bed—the cat was suddenly and mysteriously gone.
My heart sank and my mind raced. The cat ate the fish! I did a quick search of the floor, the area surrounding the dresser, everything. No fish in sight.
At least another five minutes passed while I hunted down the cat, checked for any telltale fish tank smell or wet paws. Nothing.
By now my daughter was out of the shower and joined by her older brother in the search.
“Ahhh!” came a screech, followed by one of the kids furiously shoving hands into the open dresser drawer—then plopping what appeared to be the fish back into the waiting water.
He’s got to be dead, I thought, possibly even muttered it aloud. He’s been out of the water a long, long time.
Then, without a second thought, my daughter, son, and I grabbed hands, placing one upon the fish container.
“Dear God, please, please let Stitch live. Please let him be OK,” I prayed aloud.
We opened our squeezed-shut eyes, glanced down.
Instead of slowly floating upside down, Stitch the fish looked like he was frozen in place, but for the fluttering of his little gills!
“He’s breathing, Mom!” my son shouted.
“He’s gonna live!” my daughter cried.
“I hope so.” I blinked, not terribly optimistic.
We watched him awhile, then dumped Stitch back into the big tank, gave him a little food, and prayed once more.
This morning we checked again—Stitch was still alive! For whatever reason, God had answered our prayers.
Driving to school, we did our morning prayer routine, making sure to thank God for choosing to bring what was surely a lost cause back to life.
“There’s no logical reason I can think of for that fish to still be alive,” I told the kids as I pulled into the middle school parking lot. “It was only because of God.”
“It was a miracle,” my daughter said matter-of-factly.
She was right. It definitely was a miracle.
We don’t know why God chooses to answer some prayers the way we want and not others. But we do know that God hears our prayers.
Jesus said, “If you have faith, you will receive whatever you pray for” (Matthew 21:22 CEB).
Praise God, for that’s exactly what happened to us.
Have you ever experienced a miracle, whether big or small? Share in the comments below!
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