Like a Miracle

A miracle:
“an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause.”

There is much that looks impossible. Whether those impossibilities are longstanding or recent, they contain the stuff of futility. I look at them and I know I am powerless. And so I do the only thing I can do: I pray. Prayer, to whoever it is, is hope projected.

I pray for miracles and when I do, part of me expects a big event, my very own parting of the sea. I expect noise and action, an epiphany or a grand gesture, a watershed moment where nothing before looks like what is after.
I’m beginning to learn that miracles are miraculous not because of their size but because of their specificity. They aren’t these big events; they are, like my understanding of who God is, quiet. Miracles, when they do come, are more of a breath than a shout.

That isn’t to say they aren’t life-altering, merely that they are only recognizable to those who were looking for them. In that way, they are much like love.

Update on Thud

Thank you to everyone who offered prayers for my little nephew Thud. I got an email update from my sister, telling me that they went back to the doctor to make sure there wasn't anything injured and the only sign of any problem was minor bruising on his torso.

That's it. This is Thud (with one of his brothers, his sister and friend) the day after the fall:

It's not even as bad as my sister's toe, which is straight up broken.
This is a photo of the back of their house to give a perspective of how far he fell (top window to the deck):
This is the view from the window to the deck...and he broke NOTHING. He literally hit the deck. Astounding. I get the shakes just thinking about it.