Modern Day Miracles

By Rosa Morales and Annie Reyes

Life has its ups and downs but knowing who God is and understanding that He will not leave you or forsake will help you focus on what is truly important.
Two women who were blessed with 35 years of friendship share short stories of their lives and how God has continually manifested his love for them. Each story gives hope, and nourishes the soul with the understanding of Gods love for us.
Annie and Rose throughout the years have shared many a great afternoons chatting about the trials and joys that they have witnessed each other experiences and how God was always present. Was it mere coincidence that they met and fostered a lifelong friendship? Over coffee one of those days they decided to put those great stories to paper and this book is what it grew to be. Faith and friendship carried them through love, loss and raising their families.
Ever heard the saying that Gods timing is always perfect? Well Annie would have to agree, after being turned away by a bad-mannered bus driver. Feeling slighted she walk off frustrated with the inconveniencing experience , only to be snapped into reality that a car crashed into that same bus a couple of streets away. Recognizing Gods mercies became more obvious in her life after that day.
For Rose she recognized Gods mercy when as a young woman she survived being attacked. Her attacker suddenly fled her home in fear. Rose believes if not for Gods mercy, she would have been badly hurt. Thru their experiences they have learned that God was always there and how great He is.
Powerful, exciting short stories that will tug at your heart make you laugh but most importantly it will inspire you to take a step of faith and see Gods grace

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477117255

Book preview

In the Beginning

In the Beginning

Jesus came and paid the price to redeem our lives. The Lord left the Holy Spirit to help and guide us along. We have our lives, but when Jesus returns or when we meet our maker, it will be up to us to show what we have done with it.

We are likening unto the three servants in the Bible who received a talent before their master departed, and upon his return, they had to show what they did with it. Our master has departed, and when he returns, what will we have to show with our lives? Have we lived lives that glorified our master? Have we lived lives that made others want to know our master? Do we live somewhat pacified lives?

Neither here nor there? Or do we squander our lives, never accomplishing anything with the wonderful gift of life that was given to us? Unlike the servants, Jesus does not punish or take away anything from us when we fail. Jesus intercedes for us over and over again.

When you think about it, there is really no reason to fail in our journey through this purpose-filled life. Yes, there are trials and tribulations, but we always have Jesus.

Rosa and I wish to share some of our modern-day miracles. We hope that when you reflect back on your lives, you can see your own miracles too.

The Gift of Life

When we begin this book, one idea that we wanted to get across is that every day in your life is a miracle. How many people awake in the morning and leave their homes never to return? A car ran the stop light, hitting somebody; or someone was killed when a brick fell off a building right onto their head. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, so every moment is to be treasured.

In a society filled with choice abortions, bathroom births, and plastic bags filled with broken babies’ bodies, I consider my birth the first miracle in my life . . .

In a state of unconscious awareness wrapped in the safety of the womb, God had his hands on me. The old folks always say that what is meant to be will be. So Jesus saved my life while I was still in the belly.

My mother was seven months pregnant when I was born. This was back in the time when babies did not automatically live at seven months. This is in a time where neonatal units were not in every other hospital as a common practice. Although years ago I did hear that, in the case of survival, it is better for a baby to be born in the seventh month than in the eighth month.

My father was a local policeman in his early forties living and serving in Georgia. He rode around town on his motorcycle and was revered as a policeman. Dad was also part owner of one of the local fish joints in town. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Pops caused many a young woman’s heart to jump in their chest as he would ride down West Broad Street in Savannah. He had a jeweled tongue, which spouted pearls of wisdom, a true gift of gab. This, I believe, was one of the reasons he hypnotized my twenty-one-year-old mother and convinced her to go out with him.

Betty Lou was new in town, coming in from the country to the big town looking for a job. She had found one at the local diner waiting tables. Everyone called my dad JB. Whenever he was around, she felt safe and proud that she had such a good friend, especially since he was a policeman and everything.

My father, like some men out there, had a wife but played around. In fact, Saturday was for the outside woman and Sunday was for your wife. JB was so attentive, always at the diner teasing her, and Saturdays they went for long rides and to the outdoor movies in the cover of night.

All went well; he kept the secret good until he learned my mother was pregnant. As the bulge of my mother’s stomach grew larger and larger, my father’s mind became warped and more warped with time. Handsome JB, with the short wavy black hair, was in a pickle; his cup was running over. He had a wife, a mistress whom he had on the side for years before Betty Lou came to town, and a pregnant Betty Lou. Policeman, businessman, and churchgoer—if exposed, this could be extremely embarrassing, not to mention his job and marriage could be on the line.

My father devised a plan to relieve himself of his problems. JB called his two women and invited them to meet him at his fish joint. My mother was a no-show, but the other woman came. She was the one who had threatened to tell his wife when she found out he had cheated on her. Deranged and very angry that Betty Lou did not come, he beat the woman and then shot her and himself to death. He realized his plan was not going to work . . .

My mother, upon hearing what had happened, went into labor and delivered me at seven months. The Lord meant for me to be here. I was told my birth weight was two and a half pounds. I remained in the hospital for two months but was released when I gained two and a half more pounds. My mom was traumatized and decided to give me up for adoption. I was adopted and raised by a cousin who was unable to conceive.

The blessings of the Lord are numerous, even when you don’t know you are receiving them.

The Gift

Rosa Morales

The gift of life is very precious, but it is what you do with your life that counts. My mother would always tell me the story about my siblings that passed away, one after another. None of them reached the age of five before they died. Each of these children, except for her first child who died of tetanus*, were born with some kind of illness, including myself. I was the youngest of them all. One by one her children died. I was the only one left, and there was no cure for the disease that we were born with. To this day, I don’t know what it was because I never believed my mother when she told me her story on how she lost five children. As a young child, I could not comprehend how a mother could lose five children and still be sane. Years later, after my mother’s death, I visited her sister in Puerto Rico and my aunt verified my mother’s story.

I remembered that my mother said that the miracle drug that saved me was penicillin. Penicillin had just come out, and my mother went to the governor of Puerto Rico to get permission so I could receive the drug. The governor, feeling remorse over all of my mother’s children’s deaths, gave the doctor permission to administer the drug that saved my life. I felt the disease came from my father, who also died shortly after the death of the children.

Even though I was raised in poverty and without a father, I always knew I had a purpose in life. Throughout my life, I felt that God always took care of me and protected me; and because of that, I felt that my mission in life was to help others. God saved me for a reason.

My marriage was a failure, but I had two very precious sons. God geared me in the direction of working with children, so I became a teacher even though I wanted to go into law. Law was not in God’s plans for me. Teaching just fell into place.

Now I am retired, and I do not have a penny in the bank. Therefore I look back on my accomplishments and how I always tried to walk the walk with the spirits of God within me. I realized that I am made of flesh and I am not perfect. But my main focus is my love for my precious God.

Therefore, take no thought saying, What shall we eat? Or, what shall we drink? Or, wherewithal shall we be clothed? For your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.—Matthew 6:31-32

God’s Grace

Making Decisions

Rosa Morales

I looked in the mirror, and what did I see? I saw protruding grey hairs from my already dyed hair. I wondered where the years went. As if I didn’t already have enough to do, now I had to routinely dye my hair. Pondering on a decision I had to make was definitely not helping the grey hairs either. I didn’t feel like I was fifty years old. I felt like I was twenty, unless I forgot what it feels like to be twenty.

For a few weeks, I was debating if I should sell my house or keep it. My son Mark had moved out to Long Island three weeks prior. When he left, he said I could keep the house or sell it if I wanted to. The house was situated in Rosedale, New York; it was in Queens but near the borderline of Long Island. Before we lived in Rosedale, my sons and I lived in Brooklyn for almost all our lives. To this day, I still consider myself a Brooklynite. Now with the decision of what to do with the house lurking over me, I thought back to what had attracted me to the house and Rosedale in the first place.

In the mid-1980s, Mark and two of his close friends were famous recording artists. All three boys were underage, my son being the youngest of the three as he was only fifteen. Because they were all underage, as their parents, our priority was to look out for the boys’ best interest and keep them safe. This was no easy task as the boys were getting threats on their lives. For example, one time the mother of one of Mark’s friends got a call, and the caller on the other end said that he was at McDonald’s chasing her son at that moment. He told her he was debating whether or not he should shoot him right there or let him live. The caller then proceeded to hang up the phone. When the mother hysterically contacted her son, he said he was nowhere near McDonald’s and that he had been in a meeting all day with his manager.

That was only one of the horrible things that happened. Finally, the manager had to get security for each group member to guard their front doors until we found a place to move. I asked the manager for advice on what to do. Because of our financial situation, we had no money to buy a house, and the boys had just started in the music business. He recommended that all three boys’ parents buy a house and use the royalty money the boys would be getting as a down payment.

When I first went to buy the house in Rosedale, I went alone. My son refused to come because he said he loved where he lived and was not moving out. I was trailing behind the real estate man, and I felt this excitement as I stepped inside the house. I held my breath, and I said, I’ll take it, as I trotted happily along. I stepped into the living room; right beside it was the kitchen with a doorway that led to this huge Florida room. The Florida room had beautiful plants hanging from the ceiling, and for the walls it had sliding glass doors from the floor to the ceiling. It seemed as if this beautiful room was added to the house after it was built. I imagined myself in this magnificent room on a Saturday morning, just lying on the sofa with a good book and the sun filtering in. All I kept saying was I’ll take it as we walked back into the living room. There was a small hall that led to the bathroom and a bedroom. We went upstairs where there were three bedrooms, a small kitchen, and stairs that led to the attic. What a masterpiece, I thought. This was the house I had always dreamed about. This was going to be another step up in our lives.

This was the opportunity to move out, I remembered when I was attending LaGuardia Community College; I had taken a course on community living. When I picked up my term paper from my professor, I had gotten a B plus. I honestly felt that I should have