Remember Miami

There are certain moments in life that become landmarks in your faith. Not because they're the biggest miracles you'll ever experience, but because God knows you're going to need them later.

This is one of mine.

A few years ago, right before Christmas, my family was traveling to meet my parents near Miami. Michael had been in California for work, so instead of flying all the way home to northeast Florida and then turning around to drive another six hours south, we arranged for him to fly directly into Miami. The boys and I would drive down to meet him at the airport before continuing on to meet my parents.

It sounded simple enough.

Except it wasn’t.

I was trying to figure out what time we needed to leave, and it was making me crazy. Google Maps was absolutely no help. Depending on traffic, accidents, detours, and whatever else Florida decided to throw at us that day, the drive could take six hours. Or seven. Or eight and a half.

I didn't want Michael to fly all the way from California, through multiple airports, only to sit around waiting for us. But I also didn't want the boys and me to drive six hours and then sit in airport traffic waiting for him, knowing we still had more driving ahead of us.

It was the kind of thing that felt impossible to plan well.

And I like to plan well.

So I did what I usually do. I opened Google Maps. I calculated. I estimated. I planned. Finally, the morning we were supposed to leave, I prayed.

"Lord, help me know when to leave. Help me get there at the right time."

His answer wasn't a time.

It was peace.

Almost immediately, I felt this overwhelming sense that He was saying, "Don't worry about it. I've got it."

It wasn't audible, but it was so strong and so clear that I didn't question it.

A few minutes later, the boys came into my bathroom while I was getting ready.

"Mom... what time do we have to leave?"

You could tell they were on high alert. They know me. I can be a little Type A when it comes to travel, and I think they were trying to make sure they were ready on time so they didn’t add to the stress.

I looked at them and said, "Don't worry about it. We're just going to leave when we're ready."

They looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

Or like someone had quietly replaced their mother with a much calmer woman they'd never met before.

So I told them what God had told me. I told them He had it. The timing was in His hands. It was going to be fine, and we were just going to trust Him.

And then we did exactly that.

We finished getting ready at our own pace, and then we left. We even stopped at IHOP.

I love IHOP. I know that may not be a sophisticated opinion, but I stand by it.

Normally, on a travel day like that, we would have grabbed a drive-thru breakfast and eaten in the car. We would have been rushing because we had to stay on schedule, and the schedule would have been king.

But that day we went inside. We sat down. We ate breakfast like people who were not trying to control the universe.

And I didn't look at my watch one time.

Not once.

We paid, got back in the car, and kept going.

Of course, we hit traffic. We hit a detour around Palm Beach that took us off the highway and onto surface streets for 45 minutes. When we finally got back on the highway, we hit the real traffic as we came into Miami.

Then, somehow, I accidentally got off the highway.

I still have no idea how it happened.

The GPS quickly informed me that my arrival time had just increased by seventeen minutes.

For just a moment, I felt that familiar tug.

Maybe I should have worried more. Maybe we should have left earlier. Maybe...

Then I remembered.

"I've got it."

Meanwhile, Michael’s flights had delays and moving pieces of their own. We had been texting throughout the day as he went from airport to airport, but neither of us knew exactly how the timing was going to work out. Both sides were completely outside my control.

So I just kept heading toward the airport.

After nearly seven hours of driving, we finally pulled into the airport arrivals lane and as we drove slowly through, we watched Michael walk out the doors with his suitcase.

He walked straight to the car, opened the door, got in, and we drove away.

We had been stopped for about 5 seconds.

The timing was literally perfect.

I started crying and laughing at the same time. And the boys turned instantly into the most excited little chatterboxes telling Daddy all about what God did.

Because yes, the timing was amazing. But it was more than that.

I'd been telling the boys all day, "God told me He's got this." I'd been reminding myself all day, "God told me He's got this." But then we got to see it.

They got to see it.

They got to watch the whole thing unfold from the back seat. They got to see their mom not spiral over timing, not obsess over traffic, not grip the day with white knuckles. They got to see me trust God with something small and ordinary.

And then they got to watch Him show off.

Because honestly? The stakes weren't high.

If Michael had waited twenty minutes, we would have survived. If we'd waited on him, we would have survived. This wasn't a life-or-death situation.

It was an airport pickup.

God didn't need to make the timing perfect. He wanted to.

Not because arriving at the exact same second was important, but because building my faith—and my boys' faith—was.

Looking back, I think the greater miracle wasn't even the timing.

It was the peace.

Normally I would have spent that entire day checking the GPS every few minutes, recalculating arrival times, worrying about traffic, and trying to control things I couldn't possibly control.

Instead, I spent the day at peace. And my boys got to watch.

If I had spent the whole day anxious, rushing through breakfast, getting upset at every delay, and then still arrived at the perfect time, I probably would have still called it a miracle.

But I would have missed part of the gift.

The peace was part of the miracle.

My surrender was part of the story.

I didn’t control any of it. I just trusted. Not perfectly, probably. But truly. I let the day be in God’s hands, and He carried it.

Then I remembered something else.

A week or so before the trip, I had prayed, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief." I'd asked Him to strengthen my faith.

Then He gave me Miami.

About 3 weeks after we got back home, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling anxious about something completely different. I don't even remember what it was anymore. I just remember asking God for peace.

As I prayed with my eyes closed, I saw two words in my mind as clearly as if they'd been written on a billboard.

Remember Miami.

That was the Lord reminding me.

Remember what I did. Remember My faithfulness. Remember My peace. Remember that I can be trusted.

Whenever I begin gripping something too tightly...

Whenever I start believing everything depends on me...

Whenever I’m trying to calculate every possible outcome...

I remember Miami.

I remember eating pancakes without checking the time… the traffic… the wrong exit.

I remember watching Michael walk out of those airport doors and the looks on the boys’ faces at that miraculous and unnecessary moment.

Most of all, I remember the inexplicable peace.

And that peace did not come that day from having the perfect plan. It came from trusting the One who does.

I've shared this story with groups a few times now, and sometimes people see me around town and call out, "Remember Miami!" One sweet friend even made me bookmarks with those words on them.

I love that.

Because we are forgetful people. We forget what God has done. We forget His faithfulness and that He's been trustworthy every single time before.

God knows that about us. Over and over in Scripture, He tells His people to remember. Remember what I have done. Remember how I brought you through. Remember My faithfulness. Remember My provision. Remember Me.

Because remembering the past gives us courage for today. It helps us trust today.

So if you already have a "Miami" in your own life, remember it. Tell the story. Build the memorial.

And if you don't have one yet...

Until God gives you one of your own...

borrow mine.

Remember Miami.