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Sometimes trials are just unavoidable. The sun is shining, the clouds rain free - life happens and the thunder rolls. The clouds turn gray and menacing. I used to believe as Christians we were safe from adversity. I used to think being a child of God gave me some super power that kept me from trials and tribulations. I used to think I could find rainbows without journeying through the rain.

Things in our little house were going as usual. The kids playing in the floor and the roar of the television blaring Mickey Mouse re-runs.

There I sat in wonder ... baffled at this stomach pain that had been lingering in my tummy for a solid month. I didn’t understand it. Finally, my husband decided I needed to take a trip to the Emergency Room to find out why I was in such constant pain. At this point, the “why me God” mentality set in fast.

Once there, as it is with most doctors’ visits, the pain got a little better. Sitting in an exam room closed off by thin standard blue curtains, it was hard not to notice everything going on around me. I think the hum of the madness got my mind off my own troubles. Swish, swish, swish. The wind carried my little curtain in a gust of breeze. It was then that I noticed a wheelchair passing by - rather quickly I might add. Finally in utter curiosity, I stood up off the hospital bed, pulled the curtain back and discovered just what that swish meant.

The wheel chair was moving along so quickly I could barely catch a glimpse of its driver, although I did see a wearied woman following behind -- almost as fast as that driver! My curiosity overtook me, and I sat there in waiting on the mysterious chair to come back around. Swish, swish, swish . . . This time the swish gave way with one swipe of a stranger’s hand.

There I sat peering at a young man, starring curiously at the floor, body drawn in, sporting a red hospital bracelet on his right arm. I began to talk to him. He smiled in return. He couldn’t talk back to me - but when he smiled that big smile -- I knew he understood my every word. With just a few sentences I’d spoken and one smile from this young man named Daniel - he was off again without a care in the world. Even faster than before, his mother following as fast as her little legs could carry her.

As the ER goes, I sat there in my room for several hours. Those hours passed by more easily with the swish that roared by and rustled my blue curtains. With each rustle the wheelchair paced by faster, and the little legs that followed behind grew more sluggish with each round. At three o’clock, I left with no answers except the uneasy statement that more tests were needed.

On my way out, I ran into the boy and his mother -- literally! Peering at him, I said, “Goodbye Daniel!” He flashed a smile and was on his way once again. As his mother rushed off , she looked tired. I looked at her and smiled, “You are so patient and so kind. That’s such a testament to your character.”

Thinking I’d offered encouragement the woman looked back and smiled, “It’s easy. He’s my miracle. Everyone is blessed in different ways.” This statement sent my mind racing as fast as that wheelchair! There he sat -- this young man immobile except in that wheel chair. He couldn’t speak, only smile.

Yet even in the daily trials this woman and her son no doubt faced everyday, she recognized the blessing. She recognized the miracle through the trial. She didn’t need me to remind her.

I learned so much from this woman and that little wheelchair that flew faster than the wind. I learned that when our feet are weary, we must keep pressing on. When the way is grim, we must take our focus off our problems and search for God’s voice.

Most of all, we must know that trials do come. Yes, I used to believe we were safe from adversity. True, we aren’t immune to adversity, but we are safe in the storm. Perhaps we don’t embody our own super power that keeps us from tribulation, but we do serve a God much mightier than Super Man. We aren’t promised immunity.

But we are promised safety -- safety in the storm. When trials hit your door or your hospital room, God may be hard to hear amidst the hum of the madness. In fact He may not even speak at all. He may just send someone by with your answer sporting a blazing pace and a smile and an eerily prophetic name like Daniel, who trusted God in the midst of fear and lions!

We must always listen for swishes on our curtains and those little heavenly reminders that we must choose to see the miracle through the trial. The most beautiful rainbows are those that come from storms that rage the roughest. For in seeking out the miracle in the trial we’ll find our rainbow in the flood and God’s promises through the storm. After all, you can’t even spell rainbow without rain.