Stardate 12.16.2025
Yesterday, I shared a flashback moment with an angel who has been watching over a loved one.
It took me back to St. Patrick’s Day — Stardate 03.17.2025 — inside the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics.
“I’m here to pray on the 12th floor,” I told the receptionist, “and afterward, I’d like to visit the most important person in this building.”
I was carrying a backpack.
She studied me for a moment, then quietly directed me across the hall to security.
Eyes followed me as I checked in and waited. The person I’d been sent to speak with was on a lunch break. Another kind soul stepped in to help, explaining it might be a while. Meanwhile, security never quite stopped watching.
I explained why I was there.
Why the 12th floor mattered so much to me.
Why this wasn’t a casual visit.
The prayer and meditation room on that floor is normally off-limits — protected for the privacy of patients and families. Each time staff gently suggested I leave, I pushed back. Not out of defiance, but out of necessity.
This was a labor-and-delivery situation only God could resolve.
I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Security wasn’t going anywhere.
And then — the miracle arrived quietly.
I checked my phone.
Amazon notification.
The Adventures of Castaway Wilson had just been released.
Right there.
In a hospital waiting room.
Mission accomplished.
I had become the father of Irish twins — two books, born one year apart on St. Patrick’s Day. Both sharing the same purpose: to raise money for the children on the 12th floor of the University of Iowa Stead Family Children’s Hospital, overlooking Kinnick Stadium.
Every game, 70,000 fans turn and wave to those kids at the end of the first quarter. It’s a brief moment of joy — a reminder that they are seen, supported, and loved.
I never made it to the prayer and meditation room that day.
I didn’t need to.
The prayer had already been answered — quietly, while I waited.
Yesterday was different.
This time, my wife and I wore name badges.
Access granted.
We even had a personal escort.
“Where are you headed?” the ambassador asked.
“The prayer and meditation room,” I said. “My life was saved here after a serious auto accident. I spent a lot of time in that room. Today, I need to offer prayers of thanksgiving for a loved one who’s here.”
As we walked, I noticed an owl displayed in the hallway and stopped to take a photo. It reminded me of the Pueo owl in Hawaii — a guardian figure that appears during times of danger.
I first learned about the Pueo on the Big Island, during dinner our first night at Pueo’s Osteria. Some symbols arrive long before we understand why.
I’ll be the first to admit my life feels a bit topsy-turvy right now. I need all the help I can get. There’s a top-secret project unfolding — one that will be completed according to God’s perfect timing.
All the signs tell me I’m on the right path.
Stay tuned.
And to those of you in my prayer-warrior circle: thank you. Your prayers are supporting a loved one in need. They matter more than you know.
Have a great day.
Captain’s Addendum
Bones: You’re telling me you got blocked by security and got your miracle in the waiting room?
Spock: Doctor, miracles rarely occur according to institutional protocols.
Bones: Well I’ll be… So the Captain didn’t get access — until he didn’t need it.
Spock: Precisely. Permission is sometimes granted after the outcome is secured.
Bones: That’s… actually comforting.
Spock: Logic and faith occasionally arrive at the same conclusion.
Michael’s Reflection:
Sometimes God answers the prayer before we reach the place we thought we needed to be. Access isn’t always about doors opening — sometimes it’s about realizing heaven already stepped into the room.
Scripture for the Journey
“Call to Me and I will answer you, and tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.”
— Jeremiah 33:3
Mission Log
Status: Access granted — then understood
Observation: God’s timing precedes our permission
Objective: Remain faithful, attentive, and grateful
Thank you for sharing this quiet, holy moment with me. May you notice today where grace has already gone ahead of you — and may that awareness settle your heart in prayer or stillness.
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