I believe in miracles

A couple of weeks ago, Joshua and I were just sitting on the couch, bumming around (I have no idea where the rest of the family was), and he says to me out of the blue: “Mom, it’s like, a lot harder to believe in God now than it was in Bible times. Because we don’t really see Him do any miracles or anything.”

I had to think for a minute before I could answer him. This didn’t feel like a query whose response should be rushed. And I mean, jeepers, I did NOT want to screw this one up!

“Well,” I said carefully, “I guess it’s true that we don’t see as many miracles as people did, especially when Jesus was alive on the earth and doing them fairly often. But God still does miracles, Joshua. I know, because I witnessed one.”

“You DID?” His eyes were as  big as saucers.

“I did.” I said. “You know your friends Mitchell and Leland?” And then I began to tell him the story of a miracle. And now I’ll tell you.

In the late summer of 2007, I met my friend Andrea. I had grown up with her husband’s family in church and her sister-in-law was one of my best friends. We met, in fact, at her sister-in-law’s baby shower. Andrea at the time had a two-year-old and I had both Joshua and Sophie, she was about 8 months old or so at the time. Anyway, after that, Andrea and I became MySpace friends, because IT WAS SO 2007, y’all!! In the early fall we arranged a play date at a local park and as the kids played, Andrea told me she was feeling awful, because she was pregnant again…but that she’d had an ultrasound and there was no heartbeat and the doctor had told her the pregnancy was not viable. He told her that she would miscarry, but if nothing happened before then, she had an appointment for another ultrasound the next week.  Andrea had to have fertility treatments (the kind where you get pregnant in the doctor’s office and not in your bedroom), so she told me as we sat there, that she didn’t want to go through this again, that she was ok with just having one child.

I can’t remember what I said then, probably just “I’m so sorry” and tried not to make it too awkward. But inside I was just crushed for her. I’ve never gone through that myself, so I couldn’t say “I know how you feel”, but I grieved for my new friend. And I immediately prayed for her, and for her baby.

The next night, Bobby and I had tickets for the symphony, a very rare thing. We had invited our BFFs Luanne and Daniel to come with us. We enjoyed it, but I could not get Andrea off my mind. Then somewhere in the middle of the concert, the orchestra played a very heavy, dark piece of music. And as I listened to it, I felt like a stone was sitting on my chest. And then I heard a voice, not audible, but in my head saying to me, “Don’t accept it. Ask me to change it.” And I knew in that moment that I was supposed to pray that Andrea’s baby would live. That it’s little heart would beat. That it would grow and thrive. That the doctor would be surprised with life when he saw the ultrasound at Andrea’s next appointment. That Andrea would have this child, not just another child, this child, the one she had been told was lost.

I know it sounds insane. But the truth is it would’ve been more insane to ignore that voice. And so I prayed. I prayed through the rest of the concert. When it was over I asked Luanne to pray too. That Sunday night my Bible study prayed. My friend Bethany who is Andrea’s BFF prayed with us too. I checked in with Andrea via (of course!!) MySpace message to see how she was feeling and to ask when her next ultrasound was. I waited for the day and I prayed, as it says in the Bible, without ceasing. Andrea and her baby were constantly on my mind, their names on my lips.

The day of her appointment, I waited to hear something – anything. I checked my messages obsessively. I can’t remember where, but the kids and I were out somewhere that afternoon, and when we got back I ran to my computer.

I had a message from Andrea.

I clicked on it. I held my breath.

It said something to the effect of, “I can’t believe it but on the ultrasound screen there was a baby with a heartbeat. Everything looks great. Thank you so much for everything.”

I burst into tears. Tears of joy, of relief, of excitement, but I tell you what, friends, they were not tears of surprise. I wasn’t surprised. I knew it, in my heart, I knew my prayers had been answered. The anticipation to know that other people knew it too was what was killing me. And I was wrecked by that, humbled by that, torn apart by it really, that God had even allowed me to be part of this miracle. Because it was a miracle. From not viable to perfectly healthy in a week’s time…that’s a miracle.

And about seven months later…in June 2008, Leland was born. BORN! Perfectly healthy and adorable and awesome and HERE. Holding him for the first time was just…I don’t have the words. Every baby is a miracle. Leland is a double miracle. He was lost, for a week there. And then he wasn’t.

Naturally, every time I visited Leland I was super-obsessed with taking his photo, which allowed me to bear witness to his first smile, shown here. Another gift from God, being present for that.

Leland is a big kid now. He’ll be six in a few weeks, he’s just finishing up kindergarten. How is that possible? Every time I see his picture I smile. He has a special place in my heart.

So, I told this story to Joshua (a slightly more simplified version). He listened carefully as I told him Leland’s story. The story of a freaking miracle. And I could see it in his face, the excitement, knowing his Mom had been party to a miracle. A miracle!

“We may not see miracles as often as they did in the Bible,” I said, “But that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. Sometimes we just have to look and listen carefully so we don’t miss them.”

(And I thought to myself, what if I had ignored the voice? I don’t think this story is about me. I think it’s about obedience. About believing. About acting on faith. Because God doesn’t need me to pray to do a miracle. That was His gift to me. Allowing me to ask.)

He nodded. “That’s really cool, mom.”

It really is. I believe in miracles. Do you?

(I have another miracle to tell you about later this week. I can’t wait! Don’t forget to check back!)