User Review( votes)
written by: Heather C. Bauer
What I read this morning got me thinking about miracles. And the ones I have personally witnessed over the years of my life.
The biggest miracle I have ever witnessed was with my Dad. He had stage 4 lymphoma, four times over an 11 year period. I know it is difficult to comprehend what a miracle it is that he had it four times when the first time damn near killed him.
But the third time he was quite literally miraculously healed. He stopped treatment in April of 2008, and in September of that year, he woke up in incredible pain. People prayed, the pain went away and the doctor scheduled him for a PET scan that day. When we got the results later that afternoon, it showed that ALL TRACES of cancer were gone.
Gone. No cancer. The doctors were stupefied.
We were thrilled.
So, of course, it was an incredible shock when cancer came back for the 4th and final time a few years later.
We got to have him for a year from the time of diagnosis to the time of his passing.
I remember being so angry. Realizing that my Dad would never be able to live on this earth and not ever have cancer was a horrible pill to swallow. How could a miracle happen like it did, only to lose in the end?
This morning, I realized that miracles do not mean permanence. They are little gifts that give us hope along the way, the good that gets mixed in with the bad.
Miracles look like my Dad hiking in Rocky Mountain National Park a week before he died. Miracles look like the veil lifting and my Dad seeing the other side clearly. Miracles look like heaven being so near while the physical body exists, but the soul has gone on. Miracles look like me getting to be the daughter of a beautiful, courageous man.
Miracles in the mundane. They are the beauty in the mundane. Even in beauty and death they still exist. Even in our last breath. Even in the grief of those left behind.
In 2019, I hope to be more aware of the miracle of life. Because even in the dark and the light, it is all a miracle.