I still believe in miracles.

Sunday, December 22, 2013 0 Comments A+ a-

He was five years old and still hadn’t uttered a word.  He was her fifth child, and her constant shadow.  He didn’t interact with his siblings, he never participated in their games, and was often found playing under the tree in the backyard, by himself, clothespins as soldiers for company.  She’d accepted the fact that he was probably mentally handicapped and often worried about his quality of life. 

But then a relative suggested having him checked out at the local hospital.  She’ll never forget the moment the doctor came out of the evaluation, clasped her hand, and told her there was hope.  Three years of speech therapy was all it took.  He went to school, played basketball, ran track, he married and had four girls.  And all because a relative and his mom took a leap of faith.

I still believe in miracles.

A woman, newly pregnant with their first child, kisses her husband goodbye as
he heads out on his first deployment.  He return home for a Christmas surprise. 
And shows up in time, because his son was born two days later.

I still believe in miracles.

It was a journey full of heartache, tears, discouragement, uncertainty, doubt, and the ever constant, hope.  They experienced three miscarriages, underwent tests, started taking Clomid and other fertility drugs, underwent several IUIs, and then she had an invasive surgery.  They decided to wait one more cycle before hopping back on the TTC train.  No drugs, no tests, no IUIs.  When she called a few weeks later and asked me if I’d like to meet their baby in July, I screamed.  Holding that baby girl was one of the most heartwarming, tangible answers to prayers I’ve ever experienced.

I still believe in miracles.

It was a rough eight years, hard and uncertain.  Not knowing what the home atmosphere would be like, wondering what the mood would be.  It was implicitly understood that the marriage was staying together for the sake of the children and nothing else.  There was a silent understanding that divorce was the horizon, that they were biding their time until the youngest had graduated from high school.

But a medical crisis brought the family to their knees, it broke them in a way that they had no place to go but up.  And after years of counseling and healing, the parents are more in love today than ever before!

I still believe in miracles.

He sent his son, in the form of a baby, to be the sacrifice for all of mankind’s sins.  It was the only way to reconcile his people back to himself, so he could dwell among them again.

Jesus’ ministry began at the age of thirty years old, and lasted for only three years.  Three years.  He didn’t own a home or a business.  He had no financial means.  He never wrote a book, nor did he conquer a city.  We may disagree on who Jesus is, a prophet, Messiah, a scholar, but the fact remains, he existed.  He loved.  He touched an entire world in only three years.

I believe.  I believe that tiny babe arrived in a dark world, born to be light.  I believe he willingly climbed on that cross to bear my sins, to reconcile me to my heavenly father.  I believe because I’ve been on the other side, where its dark and its hard to breathe, where it feels like you’re weighted down by chains.  And when I chose to believe, I remember the freedom, the air, the beauty in knowing someone loved me enough to DIE for me. 

I believe because this love, its nothing short of a miracle.  Merry Christmas!


I’m a coffee drinking, book reading, laundry procrastinating, husband and children loving, mess of a woman who believes that chips and salsa can fix anything. We have chickens running around the backyard, a mountain of dishes in the sink, and on any given morning, I have at least 10 school forms that need my signature or initials. It’s a crazy life {I prefer to call it controlled chaos}, but its ours.