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In the busy world we live in today, so often our text is forgotten, and we forget God’s blessings granted us. I read a report recently written by a Hospital Chaplain in England, which sums up our text. The report is as follows:

I used to be chaplain on the orthopaedic ward of our local hospital. All kinds of casualties ended up there. There were cases of window cleaners falling off ladders, lads tearing ligaments on football fields, farmers who’d been kicked by cows and revellers tripping over kerb stones after late-night parties. The ward was a cheerful place, full of jokes and laughter, because most of the men were not really ill. They were temporarily out of action and very bored. The nurses had a rough time of it, poor things, and were teased mercilessly by the men in plaster casts with nothing but six weeks of bed rest to look forward to.

One Monday morning, when I entered the ward, my eye was caught by the patient in the corner bed. He looked in a bad way. His legs were in traction, bandages covered his bare midriff, and his face was badly bruised. He must have been in a road accident, I thought. The patient was awake, so I started my ward chaplain routine. “You’ve been in the wars. How did it happen?” “I fell out of an aeroplane!” he said, with a faint grin. I admired his courage and decided to play along with the joke. “Heathrow or Gatwick?” I said. “None of the men in the ward believed me at first,” He sighed. “Even Casualty thought I was having them on. But I did, honestly. “Go on,” I said. “Tell me about it.” It was an incredible story, a miracle in fact. He’d been piloting a small aeroplane which was towing a glider. The glider tow rope had been released and he was bringing the plane around in readiness for landing. Just as he was on the point of touchdown a sudden, violent gust caused one of the wings to hit the grass landing strip. The entire plane rocketed forwards over the cliff edge and rolled upside down.

Quick as a flash, he released his seat belt, and seconds later he landed in a tree at the foot of the rocks, hitting his head, breaking a leg and wrist, and knocking himself unconscious. The next memory he had was of waking up in a hospital bed. “I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he said quietly, after finishing his story. Then he looked up. “There’s something you could do for me,” he said. “Would you say a thank you prayer for me?” So I pulled the curtains round the bed for privacy and said the Lord’s Prayer with him.

We often talk about “being lucky”. “I had a lucky escape,” we say, when somebody overtakes on a blind corner and we manage to avoid a collision by swerving at the last minute. Or “The little boy next door was lucky not to be run over.” And I’ve often heard people say, “Luckily I had a first-rate surgeon. He did a marvellous job on me.” Is it luck when things turn out well, or is it something more? Could it be that somebody is looking after us? I have a strong feeling that what we call luck is not luck at all, but God’s guiding hand watching over us. That’s why we should say a short prayer of thanks to God after a safe journey, or a successful operation, or a narrow escape and even more so when we fall out of an aeroplane and live to tell the tale!

It is hoped that this story will inspire us to remember that we should begin and finish every day in thanksgiving to the Lord, and especially remembering those added blessings granted to us.