I used to think the only true miracle would be if Elijah completely recovered from his massive brain injury. Now I realize that miracles are all around me. I see miracles everywhere I go. And while I still hope for complete recovery, I see the miracles I might have once missed. Every life, no matter the ability level of that person, is a miracle. We experience miracles on a daily basis. Every step this kid takes, every time he lifts his head and looks at me, every time he communicates, every breath he takes, every time he swallows, each smile he gives - they are all miracles. Our boy, despite the obstacles he must overcome, is a miracle.
A couple nights ago Andy was feeding Elijah his bedtime snack. It was raining and I walked by to go look out the window. Elijah visually tracked me as I went by and said a growly, "Mawhm." I turned around, tears streaming down my face, and said, "Yes, Elijah, I'm mom!" He smiled at me. He knew he said mom and he was proud.
So how do you describe a miracle? Do I tell you that the sky doesn't open up and light doesn't shine on you like you think it should? Do I tell you how I proceeded with my evening, washing the dishes while Andy put Elijah to bed? Do I also tell you that I could hardly see the dishes through my tears as I washed and cried and praised God for our miracle? Life goes on - sometimes miracles take place before bath time, after a walk, while it rains, and during a yummy peach snack.
Sometimes a miracle is in a word. And it sounds like Mawhm.