A MOTHER'S DAY MIRACLE

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*A couple of years before Rev. Puckett passed away, I had the privilege of meeting him, and sat down with him in his home. Knowing that his wife had written a book about their children, marriage, and their lives in general, I asked if I could borrow a copy. 

Paul hesitated, but writing down my name and address, he loaned me one of only two copies he still had. While I had the book in my possession, I scanned the volume to a CD so that it might remain available for his grandchildren and their grandchildren.

I might mention. I knew Beth. She and I were in high school chorus together. She was a precious young lady, a Christian and a person of great potential.

Following is a poignant excerpt from Martha Puckett's book.

Almost a quarter of a century has transpired since our dear daughter left us, though she remains very much alive in the life of our family. God has used her death to impact many others along the way, and we have used our excruciating experience to help others during their time of grief.

While it was inestimably difficult to pass through the valley of the shadow of death, I am happy to say that our Savior has led us all the way, and that in our most trying times, God never forsook us.

(But following is where I most wanted to bring you this evening).

Beth had hardly been gone three months when I began to dread Mother’s Day. Our daughter had always been so loving and thoughtful on holidays, and I knew that it would be a difficult 24 hours. But I had my duties at the organ, and I realized that it was a day that would just have to be lived, and put behind us.

On Mother’s Day morning, as I was in the process of getting dressed, I reached to get something out of my drawer. The drawer was stuck, and I jerked it open. When I did, it fell out on the floor, and all its contents were scattered across the room. Of course, I was frustrated, and exclaimed, “Lord, I don’t need this. Not today.”

Reaching up under the space from which I pulled the drawer, I felt around …and touched a large envelope. I inhaled deeply. In my hand I held a Mother’s Day card which Beth had given to me the previous year. I opened it, and wept, as I read the familiar handwriting.