Boomerang Coat

The imitation gold that covered the buttons has worn off, and after many washings, it will not hang quite straight anymore. The label says 100% polyester, but I believe it is at least 50% miracle. I call it my boomerang coat because no matter how many times I give it away, or it gets lost or stolen, it always comes back to me.

The first time I gave it away was at Surgi Center’s abortion clinic in Atlanta. A young woman had responded to my offer of help in place of an abortion. She was shivering while waiting for her friend to pick her up. I put my coat on her, thinking I would get it back, but she left while I was speaking to someone else. I did not see her go. I did not get her telephone number so I figured my coat was gone forever. 

Although it was a bit too large for me, I treasured my coat because my friend Steve had given it to me. I prayed and asked the Lord to bring it back to me. Five months later while I was pumping gas across town, the same young lady pulled up, obviously still pregnant, and retrieved my coat from the back seat of her car. 

The second time it disappeared was when I had put it on the hood of my car while at Surgi Center. Someone took it when I was not looking. I prayed and asked the Lord to bring it back to me. Two weeks later, it reappeared on the hood of my car. 

Once, while climbing the stairs at the Midtown Marta station in Atlanta, a man, with his own perfectly good coat on, literally demanded my coat from me. I yelled, “No way!” I hit him with my heavy fanny pack full of loose change. He fell backwards down the stairs and I took off running.

One day, while at our Rally for Life, I saw a little child crying from the cold. I had layered myself and assured her mother that I would be okay without my coat for the short time that remained. I thought they would continue walking next to me, but instead, I watched my too-long-for-her coat dragging on the ground as it disappeared into the crowd. I prayed and asked the Lord to bring it back to me. Three weeks later, while at Feminist Women’s Health Center, another abortion clinic, my coat was returned. The child’s mother had inquired about me and had gone to every abortion clinic in town to find me. Once again, I had my treasured coat.

One day I was arrested while just sitting on a rock reading. I was in the AAA Parking lot next door to Surgi Center. I was not on the clinic property, but I was told I was too close. Whatever. When I got to jail, my coat went into the property department. When I was released, they claimed they did not have it, never saw it! I learned a long time ago that you cannot win an argument with a guard, so I left. I prayed and asked the Lord to bring it back to me. Fully expecting it, I laughed to myself, wondering how it would come back to me this time. The following Monday morning in front of Surgi, a police officer pulled up, handed me my coat through his window and said, “Don’t ask.”

The last time someone felt the need to have my coat was at the food court in downtown Atlanta. I was with several friends. We chose our table, hung our coats over the backs of the chairs, and then stood in line for our food. When we returned to the table, my coat was missing. Knowing how it goes with my coat, everyone laughed. Everyone but me. I thought about Stevie, and I wanted my coat!  I prayed and asked the Lord to bring it back to me.  When we left the food court and started down the sidewalk toward our cars, there it was, hanging on a bush. 

I do not understand the fascination with my coat. It is very plain, and it really is not very warm. The only value it  holds for me is the fact that it was a gift from Steve. 

One winter I was visiting my daughter during a very heavy snow storm. I spent hours playing in the snow with my granddaughter. It was not until I had gotten back home to Georgia that I noticed the bottom button of my coat was missing. The following spring, during another visit, I found it on my daughter’s driveway, flattened by one of their cars. Even the buttons return to me.

I share the story of my boomerang coat because, although the stories of the separation of my coat from me were all different, there was always one thing that remained the same: Prayer. It was only a coat, easily replaced, but  the Lord faithfully answered every time I asked him to bring it back to me. Despite all the weighty, burdened prayers He hears, He still cared about my desire to have my coat returned.

I encourage you to take all your cares to Him in prayer. Whether your concern is big or small, burdensome or trite, He cares. He hears. He answers!  Always believe that what matters to you will always matter to Him.  

NOTE: Interested in reading more stories about the Lord’s faithfulness in answering my prayers during my years in Atlanta?

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