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Seeds of something fine

Miracle happens

Staff writer

We recently renovated our lone full bathroom. The process of the renovation, like any project around the house, uncovered more issues needing to be resolved than I had planned on, which required more money to be put into the project than I had budgeted.

First, we found out we needed all new flooring. I was frustrated, but thankful that I knew the County Seat Decorating Center would do wonderful work.

The day a County Seat employee finished laying the floor, I walked into my bathroom and, to my surprise, started crying.

Having a floor I wasn’t afraid to walk on barefoot meant I could relax in my own bathroom, and maybe Lyla would relax enough to potty train better. Maybe it was the tears that set the next part in motion.

As I was thanking him, he ended up telling me the incredible story about the birth of his second son. It’s not my story to tell, but I stood in my dining room listening to this man tell the story of a miracle child and his own part in bringing that miracle into the world. I was speechless.

Here was this story that took my breath away just flowing out of him like a life-altering miracle was just an everyday occurrence.

I couldn’t help but remember the remarkably fortunate circumstances of my daughter’s birth. My story is nothing like his, but she’s an odds-beater. As he told his story I felt like part of me was nodding along, not with shock, but with understanding.

As much as that encounter alone could have taught me my lesson, something in the universe thought I really needed help getting this one. The next hitch in the renovation saga brought its own miracle story into my home.

My dad and husband blew a fuse trying to hang a light. The surge broke my dryer somehow (don’t ask me, I don’t get it, that’s why I called the repairman).

The man who came to fix it was very friendly, and in the course of chatting, I learned he has a son who, at age 2, was taken by Life-Flight to Colorado with congestive heart failure. His young boy’s life, too, is a miracle. For the second time in as many days, I stood listening to a story of the miracle of some child surviving against all odds.

Their stories are not mine to tell, but they reminded me of my own miracle child and I was ashamed as I began to realize how little I think about how lucky I got with my daughter anymore. It used to be all I thought about all the time.

Then came my third reminder, like the ghosts of “A Christmas Carol;” apparently big lessons come in threes.

I was getting things back where they belonged after all the work, when I uncovered something I couldn’t believe had become hidden.

It may sound morbid, but I have hung in a prominent place in my home a picture of a friend of mine who died in 2007. in a tragic plane crash at the age of 28. He had a 5-month-old son at the time, his first and only child, and the boy had been born with a deformity. His life, too, is a stunning miracle.

Somehow the photo had gotten covered, bit by bit. I can’t imagine how I didn’t notice; I am keenly aware of it when I walk past, even when I don’t look.

I’d placed it so it’s the first thing I see when I sit down at the end of the day with a cup of tea in my kitchen. Every time I see his face I stop and take one deep breath and say “thank you”.

I’m not thankful for his death, but I look at him and I know how ridiculously lucky I am. That sounds awful. But it’s true. Every time I look at my friend it’s all I can do not to rush in to Lyla’s room and squeeze her with all my strength.

And as I uncovered his face, all that thankfulness welled up within me.

I think I used to be afraid if I wasn’t vigilantly conscious of how undeserving I am of miracles, I’d lose the things I love the most. That’s why I kept that picture up there. But if listening to those men taught me anything, it’s that miracle happens, more often than we think and with no predictable pattern.

You can’t earn a miracle or work hard enough to prevent real tragedy. All you can do is be thankful every day for the day you have. It wasn’t owed to you, it’s worth its weight in gold, you might not get another one, but that doesn’t make the day at hand any less beautiful.

Last modified April 20, 2011

 

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