5 Miraculous Stories Across The Color Spectrum

These everyday reassurances of God’s blessings remind us that divine miracles can saturate our lives at any time.

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Posted in , Mar 25, 2022

A collage of watercolors in rainbow colors; Getty Images

Miracles come to us in every shape, size and even color. God’s blessings flow across a spectrum, from everyday reassurances of his presence to out-of-this-world experiences; each divine mystery as vibrant as the colors of the rainbow. These stories sent to us by readers like you show us why God says in Genesis 9:13, “I have set my rainbow in the cloud, and it will be the sign of a covenant between me and the earth.”

Sarah Shrauger from Sandwich, Massachusetts

Every year for Christmas, my mom would get ornaments for my siblings and me. Usually, they commemorated some event from the past year—a graduation, a job promotion, a marriage. When I opened my box on Christmas Day 2012, my face fell. Mom had given me my baby ornament. The little figure had chubby cheeks, and a knitted red hat.

I covered the box and muttered a thank-you to Mom, my eyes tearing. She obviously meant for the ornament to give me hope, but it just reminded me of what I didn’t have. After four years of trying and a couple rounds of in vitro fertilization, I still wasn’t pregnant. My husband, Mark, and I had decided to foster to adopt through the Department of Children and Families. Many classes and a home study had gotten us certified, and we waited for the call that a child needed us. In the meantime, the baby ornament was shoved in the back of a drawer. I couldn’t bear to look at it.

One week before the next Christmas, I got a phone call. It was the DCF, and they had a baby for us. I’d wanted this for so long, but now I was filled with anxiety. Mark was at work, and I was home alone. Lord, are you sure I’m ready?

As the caseworker pulled into the driveway, I made my way down the front steps to meet her. From the back seat, she brought out an adorable, chubby-cheeked baby. On his head was a red hat. The baby I’d hoped for. The baby that Mom knew would come.

Sara Matson from Carver, Minnesota

I walked along the beach on the second morning of my vacation in Florida, scanning the shore for shells. I was determined to find an orange one for my 15-year-old niece, Ava.

Ava and I didn’t know each other as well as I would have liked. Our family only gathered a few times a year. So we decided to become pen pals. Our letters were helping.

When I wrote to her about my vacation, she asked if I could bring her back an orange shell. Fulfilling her request felt like another way to bond with Ava, and I didn’t want to come back empty-handed.

I continued down the beach and spotted a distinctive conch shell in the sand. It was medium-size. No cracks or breaks. And a vibrant orange! It was a rare find. I picked it up to examine it, but when I turned it over, I saw it was still inhabited by a mollusk. Almost, I thought, gently, tossing it into the water. If God had provided one orange shell, maybe he could provide another.

The rest of the week passed without another bright orange shell. On my last day in Florida, I took a final walk on the beach, letting my mind drift. I wasn’t even thinking about shells when I almost stumbled over one in the wet sand. I picked up the medium-size, bright orange conch shell without any cracks or breaks. And no mollusk inside. Not only would I return with the perfect gift for Ava, but now I had an incredible story to go along with it.

Donna Thomas from Sun City West, Arizona

Lots of people hate grocery shopping. I didn’t used to be one of them. When my husband, Chuck, was alive, we went together every week, all through our marriage, and it was fun. This was the first time I’d been back since his death. It was hard for me to face the store alone.

For 45 years, Chuck would pretend to look for something on a faraway aisle and come back with three yellow roses for me. His surprise never got old, and we felt like newlyweds each time. But there’d be no sweet surprises on this trip. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

I was standing at the meat counter trying to find a steak small enough for one when a woman came up beside me.

“My husband loves T-bones, but at these prices, I just don’t know if I should buy any,” she said.

“My husband died eight days ago,” I said. “Buy the steaks. Cherish every moment together.”

I smiled and hurried away before she could reply. What was I thinking to have admitted something so personal to a stranger?

A few minutes later, the woman came up to me holding three gorgeous, long-stemmed yellow roses. “These are for you,” she said, gently placing them in my arms. “The cashier knows they’re paid for.” I wasn’t facing things alone: Chuck was with me. Life and the grocery store still held sweet surprises after all.

Amy M. Wasson from Silver Bay, Minnesota

After I received a devastating breast cancer diagnosis, one of the first people I told was my good friend Brita. She wrapped me in a hug, then took off her beautiful cross pendant necklace, inset with tiny emeralds.

“Please wear it as a blessing for a quick recovery,” she explained as she fastened it around my neck.

I appreciated the gift. I was terrified of what was to come, and I needed all the blessings I could get. I was scheduled for surgery to remove the tumor, but its size seemed to indicate that the cancer had spread. The doctors told me if it had, my chances of survival were low. I wore the cross necklace every day and tried to hold on to hope.

A few days after seeing Brita, I attended a company party with my husband to take my mind off things. At one point, I glanced down at my necklace. My stomach dropped. One of the emeralds was missing! The necklace had been intact when we’d arrived. We searched the venue but couldn’t find it. I wasn’t surprised; it was so tiny. We finally returned home. I took off the necklace and hung it on my mirror.

A few days later, I climbed into bed and felt myself spiraling into despair. The odds that this cancer hadn’t already spread were low. It would take a miracle. Like somehow finding that itty-bitty lost emerald.

I tossed and turned—then felt something scratch my leg. I pulled back the sheets. Sitting right next to me was the missing emerald! But how? It wasn’t there when I’d pulled the covers back to get in. It was as if it had been placed there. A little miracle. A reminder not to lose faith.

I had my surgery. The doctor was able to remove my tumor and, to his surprise found the cancer hadn’t spread. “It’s so rare that a tumor of that size hasn’t metastasized,” he said. “It’s a miracle.” It was a miracle. One I knew that God was capable of performing.

Elena M. Macaluso from Sacramento, California

I drove through the entrance gate of my apartment complex and parked my car. It had been a rough day, and I wasn’t looking forward to this evening. It was my first birthday without my mom. She had died five months earlier from complications related to COPD and pneumonia.

Mom and I had always spent our birthdays together and tried to find a gift in our favorite color: cobalt blue. We’d given each other ornaments, trinkets, jewelry.... I’d even found a cobalt-blue aluminum Christmas tree one year. And on her last Thanksgiving, I’d gone to the supermarket to buy her flowers. There, among all the traditional fall-colored offerings, was a single bouquet of cobalt-blue daisies. She raved about them all day.

I sighed and slowly got out of the car. As I approached my door, I noticed a dash of color. There on the steps sat a vase filled with flowers. There was no note or birthday card with it. The flowers were beautiful, but it was the vase they came in that held my attention. It was the perfect shade of cobalt blue.

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