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\”Do You See Miracles?\” Our Ruby Story

October 16, AD2013 14 Comments

\"John

Stacy Trasancos entitles one of her recent posts \”Do you See Miracles?\” An excellent read. It prompts my response.

To answer Stacy\’s question \”Do you see miracles?\” I say \”Yes!\”

Let me briefly describe one that happened right in front of me in a most unexpected way, of course.

When my wife, Lynne, and I were newly married, we had her parents come visit us at Christmas time. On December 26, the four of us took a bus out to Texas Stadium to see the Dallas Cowboys play a game against the Chicago Bears.

\"Texas

Texas Stadium

After the game that ended in the cold and the dark, we returned home where I immediately took our dog out for a walk.

When I returned home I was met at the door by Lynne holding both her hands up to me with her palms facing toward her. She was crying. What I did not see right away was that the ruby from her engagement ring was not in her ring. She told me she had cut open her winter gloves, searched everywhere in her clothing and found nothing.

Her parents wanted us to call our insurance company to see if it could be replaced. I knew that it was not specifically insured and so I quickly turned our conversation to planning how we would go back to the stadium the next morning.

My confidence came from my memory of the parking lot being black asphalt, and thus more easily searchable, and from something Lynne and I knew about the ruby but her  parents did not know.

\"Ruby\"

For Lynne and me, the pear-shaped ruby (not this big by any means, but shaped in similar manner) was chosen specifically by us to represent a drop of the Blood of Christ. It was to be a constant reminder of our mutual commitment to following Jesus in all things. (My wedding ring contains a ruby as well for the same purpose.)

In the morning, as we made our way to the stadium, we told each other how we had slept and whether we had any dreams. Lynne\’s father slept but was unaware of any dreams. Her mother dreamt of a friend who lost her ring at a theater performance while clapping. Lynne dreamt of food falling on a kitchen floor. I dreamt of an anesthesiologist friend of mine at the door of a sleeping (depressed?) woman I used to know.

I called my mom, Mary, and told her what we were doing, asking for her advice. She said we should and she would pray to St. Jude for help. I agreed and promised that if we found the ruby, I would go buy the biggest St. Jude statue I could afford to remind me of his help.

The morning was cold and foggy. The stadium parking lot was completely empty. We drove to where the bus had picked us up, thinking that the ruby was dislodged from the ring when Lynne took off her gloves to present her bus ticket. But my memory had failed me. The surface was not black asphalt. Rather is was multicolored, stone aggregate.

 

\"aggregate

 

Not to be discouraged, Lynne and her father and I got down on our hands and knees to feel over the ground in the hope we would find it. Meanwhile Lynne\’s mother stood talking about whether we should look inside the stadium. That\’s when a guard came up asking what we were doing. She told him and asked about going in where we had been sitting the night before. Initially he said we\’d have to talk with administrative office people clear on the other side of the stadium. But he reconsidered when he remembered that the cleaning crew was in there right then, working. He suggested we hurry. We did.

When we arrived at our row of seats, a 10-member crew was sweeping and picking up trash about 20 yards away from us on the same level, working like the guys in this image. (The image is of a group cleaning a San Diego stadium, not Texas Stadium. Just wanted you to get a sense of how they move through the rows when they are cleaning.)

\"Cleaning

Lynne and her mom went into our row followed by her dad. I hung back, almost in a trance. Two workers came over as Lynne and her parents began looking on the floor beneath our seats. \”What are you looking for?\” asked the crew chief. I said, \”A ruby.\” Lynne\’s mom reacted as if I was giving out too much information to strangers. Then the other crew person asked, \”What color is it?\” Before I could respond, Lynne suggested I not just stand there but do something. The crew chief suggested looking in the row just below where Lynne and her parents were.

I made my way onto that row and observed the floor, littered with food, packaging, and empty cans and cups. Roasted peanut shells were everywhere. Among the shell droppings were the thin, red skins of the peanuts. I got down on my hands and knees to gentle push aside the game\’s debris.

\"Wrappers,

Suddenly what looked like a red skin of a peanut started getting bigger and bigger in front of my gaze. I reached for it, fully expecting it to crumble in my fingers. But it didn\’t. It was the ruby, our drop of the Blood of Christ!

I rose to show everyone. Lynne let out a yell. Lynne\’s parents were smiling. The crew went back to work without comment.

On the way back home, I stopped at the Catholic bookstore and bought our St. Jude statue, like the one shown below. It stands today on the window sill of my dining room where I write.

 

\"St.

St. Jude

It took me a while to understand how what had happened was a miracle. Over the rest of the visit, we all talked about the improbable odds were of finding this ruby in space and time of the stadium floor and the cleaning crew.

Since I understand dreams as God\’s forgotten language, I eventually realized how our separate dreams were each privately revealing pieces of a solution to finding the ruby. Like the dream of Lynne\’s mom, the ruby had fallen out in the theater of play, not on the parking lot as I had projected. Like Lynne\’s dream, the ruby was to be found on the stadium\’s \”kitchen floor\” where all us fans had been stuffed together. And like my dream, I had to wake up, not be depressed about the potential loss, but step outside the room of the first row. Moreover, it took all of us, working together, just like putting the dreams together to puzzle out the ruby\’s location. Even the guard and the cleaning crew encountered us like angels, not simply like uncaring or covetous strangers.

While I appreciated how much the ruby meant to Lynne and me and how much our prayers and my mom\’s helped us, I could not stop there in my wondering about why this miracle had happened. Surely, it was but one more confirmation of the faith Lynne and I shared, of my mom\’s faith as well.

But it was only later, after a while of repeated thanksgivings,  that I realized the miracle was also meant for Lynne\’s parents who do not express any understanding of faith. They come from secular backgrounds, especially in science.

My prayer, as I\’m sure Lynne\’s and my mom\’s is as well, is that someday, Lynne\’s parents will remember this miracle and see it as a sign meant for them to consider favorably.

A sign of God\’s love for them as well as us.

Thanks, Stacy, for asking the question.

 

Filed in: Faith, Science

About the Author:

John Darrouzet is a successful Hollywood screenwriter, an accomplished lawyer, a student of decision-making, and a deeply committed Roman Catholic layman who is FINDING FAITH AT THE MOVIES. Read more about John here.

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  • Kathy

    I am in tears right now. Such a beautiful story to start my morning. God bless

  • David From Canada

    God leads us to good things in life. Yes, the story of the ruby is a miracle, but it also show God’s great Love for us.

  • Glen

    Praised be God in his angels and saints, especially St. Jude. Thank you for sharing this remarkable story. Miracles happen every day, but perhaps not as dramatic as your story. We all need to keep our eyes and minds open the marvels of the Lord in our lives.

  • jim

    Great story ! I often pray to St Anthony for lost or misplaced items and St Jude for those ‘impossible’ times I often put myself in. God Bless you and you families !

  • Thomas R Eades III

    how awesome,

  • tanyahe

    saint jude pray for us-his feastday is 28th of oct.

  • Ed Kilby

    A faint sparkle
    A faint sparkle… Rings are important to people because of what they represent–commitment, faithfulness, shared struggles, a sacrament shared. In that sense, they can be very holy things–and objects of holy intervention. Ed and Jean K. from North Carolina sent in a touching story about a lost ring and St. Anthony–about seeing “a faint sparkle.” Ed writes: “My wife caught her ring on the sofa cover and discovered the 3/4 carat diamond was missing from the setting. Naturally she got a little upset and looked at me for an answer. I asked how long had it been missing and she wasn’t sure, but remembered hitting her hand on a doorway a few days ago. Well that sure wasn’t much to go on and I suggested she pray to Saint Anthony while I searched with a flashlight. I was only doing this for her sake because there was little hope of finding something so small. So I looked close to all the doors in the house knowing it was hopeless. But I decided to look by the door going out of the garage, nothing there either. Then I shined the flashlite behind the freezer by the door where there was plenty of dust and leaves and there was a faint sparkle. I bent over and saw the stone and went for my wife to see it before touching it. So once more Saint Anthony came through.” A faint sparkle–not a bad way of describing Anthony’s little way into the soul.

  • NurseTammy

    I read your article very differently…while I think that its wonderful that you and your in-laws worked together to find the stone that was missing from her ring and that God nudged you in the right directions using numerous miraculous tools…what really struck me is how blessed your wife is to have people in her life who love her so much that they would apply themselves so earnestly to this task. If I had ever been in the same circumstance my concerns would have been met with blank stares and crickets chirping (most certainly NOT a group excursion back to search a stadium !)

    Stone found or not found, your wife is a very blessed woman.

    • Jeff_McLeod

      What you wrote made me think of the Kingdom of God being like the woman who searches diligently for the lost coin.Something about having everybody drop what they’re doing, just for you, is pretty overwhelming. We have a deep longing to be loved so much.

      Mr. Darrouzet seems to grasp this. He sets the bar high for husbands!

    • John Darrouzet

      Nurse Tammy, you write: “…what really struck me is how blessed your wife is …”

      I respond: My wife was and is sent as a blessing, don’t you see? She is a God-send. She brings us blessings.

      What is striking to me about my response in this instance was my lack of hesitancy in supporting her through our search. There was no doubt in my mind, only faith.

      Starting in faith, it became a matter of being attentive not only to her and her parents but to all we encountered. In a most telling way, the expected apprehension called fear gave way to an unexpected apprehension of immediate hope.

      When our ruby was found, the incomprehensible gave way to the apprehension of that it happened, then to what had happened, then to where and when and how and how infrequently this happens, to why it happened, and finally to whom and for whom it happened.

      We are blessed by God to have Lynne in our lives, no question about that. But she would be quick to add that in a profound sense, each of us is a miracle that God provides to each of us and each other.

      Once you see the miracle of one other person in your life, you are invited to see the other miracles in your life as well.

      You, yourself, seem to me like a miracle who is waiting to be found. Just remember, God found you first. Letting His light shine through you will hasten the moment when others get you and seek out the gem you are.

      God be with you, Nurse Tammy!

  • linda birri

    This is a wonderful story! Thank you for sharing it.

  • Susan

    What a beautiful miracle! I lost my diamond engagement ring and gold wedding ring – my fault totally – I threw it in the garbage along with peanut shells. Unfortunately, when I realized what I must have done, we drove to our city’s “dump” – I was ready to comb through garbage, etc. It was three days later and the Friday garbage was already compacted. My fervent prayers to St. Anthony (patron of finding lost articles) were of no help, but I love him just the same. My carelessness was my problem. I’m so happy for you.

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