Miracle???

I am really skeptical and I hate that I am. When I hear about an amazing miracle I tilt my head and wonder whose leg is getting pulled. Don't get me wrong I totally believe in miracles, but sometimes I think we call a foothill a mountain just to strengthen our testimony. I say this as I contemplate what happened to me in the wee hours of Sunday morning...

I woke up at 2 am to the sound of Milo whining outside my door. He was either cold and wanted to cuddle or scared because the dishwasher had turned on. Either way I got up to let him in and as I made my way to the bedroom door I became aware of a pain in my right lower back. I let Milo in and went to the restroom where I experienced a burning sensation. The pain in my lower back was getting worse so I grabbed a handful of aspirin and swallowed them. I returned to the bedroom, pushed Milo over and crawled under the covers. I laid there for about 5 minutes wondering what this pain could be and why was it getting progressively worse. For the next 2 hours I repeatedly got up, laid down, got up, tried to use the restroom, walked around, cursed the pain and tried to lay down again. I pulled out my iPad and searched WebMD for possible reasons and solutions for the pain: muscle strain, urinary infection, kidney stone, gonorrhea, etc... It felt like the kidney stone I had a year ago so I self diagnosed it as such. The internet offered no quick fix or solution other than waiting for it to pass (this too shall pass). 

At 4 am I frantically searched the house for a better pain killer, but none was to be found. I wondered if the oxycodone dealer on the corner would still be working (I don't know if there is really a dealer, but I did wonder if I could find one). I grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and downed a handful of them (I'm bigger then most people so the normal dosages don't apply). For the next hour I debated, usually in a hunched over position, if I should go to the emergency room. I worried if I didn't make it back in time who would teach my Sunday school class and who would preach the morning message. Finally the pain was more than I was willing to handle and I grabbed my car keys (Catherine volunteered to drive me, but I waved her away--after all my dad drove himself to the hospital after his first heart attack).

I got into my Focus and thought this is stupid, I should let Catherine drive me, but pulled out anyway. It was then that I realized I had spent the whole week preparing for a sermon on Hope in Jesus that I was going to preach that morning and I had not practiced it. I sought hope in a pill bottle, self-help, the internet, but had not even given it serious prayer. So I started praying for relief.

I got about a mile away when the pain started going away. Two miles away I turned around and came home because the pain was nearly gone.
Did all the pain meds finally kick in?
Did the stone stop moving?
Did the awkward position of sitting in the car help?
Was it the miracle of prayers answered? 

I don't know...all I know is before I prayed I was pretty sure I was dying and after I prayed I went home and all was better.