Since then I have noticed my social media feeds flooded with miracles. I find myself so grateful for each miracle. Even for those people I don't know very well. Miracles are an amazing blessing for many! They bless both the lives of those who experience them first hand as well as those who witness them.
What is a miracle? There are many definitions but the one that speaks to me is this "a beneficial event brought about through divine power that mortals do not understand and of themselves cannot duplicate."
This past week our extended family has witnessed true miracles and is continuing to see them. Although Mark and I are not the direct recipients of them, our hearts are full and in aware of the love of so many specifically our Father in Heaven. As I said these miracles are a blessing to us as we are bystanders of their power for our family members needing these amazing blessings at this time.
When Mark and I were discussing our blessings and trials late into the night a couple months ago our hearts were immediately turned back to those long days and night in the hospital with Miles. As our sons fragile body fought so hard for life, we could feel his spirit torn between two different worlds. My heart truly ached as I felt his heart so torn. The feeling of his torn struggle was overwhelmingly strong, that neither Mark nor I could deny the feelings.
I'm not sure I have ever received more priesthood blessings as I did over those few days. Mark too administered many of these sacred blessings to our son. My knees and heart hurt from constantly praying and pleading with my Father in Heaven for my sons return. Yet it just never felt right. I remember escorting visitors back and forth to visit Miles and each time I knew in my heart I was taking them to say their goodbyes, whether they knew it or not. Yet my mind and heart did not want to accept this truth.
Mark and I finally accepted that our son had a greater mission before him. One that he wanted so badly to accept, yet was so torn and hurt to leave us for. It was then that we told our son that it was okay to leave us. That if he wanted to, he needed to accept his new calling and move forward without us. I remember whispering these things to him softly with my cheek next to his. I then told him that I loved him more than words could express. That although I would miss him dearly, that I understood how torn he was and that I wouldn't be mad at him for going.
Since then I have at times wondered if I prayed hard enough for the miracle I wanted so badly. For my son to be healed. For him to open his eyes and hug me again. For me to bring him home and snuggle him each and every day. Did I pray enough? Did I truly plead enough? Did I not have enough faith? There are time I have wondered these things. But as Mark and I discussed miracles late that evening it finally came to me. Maybe our miracle was that the miracle didn't happen.
I'm not truly sure what that means completely. I understand it in a way that maybe you won't. But I know this was the answer that I have been seeking for, for a couple years now. I also know that Miracles do happen and they happen daily! Miracles come in both very large and very small ways. But miracles aren't always what we think they are and they don't always happen as we want them to happen or when we want them to happen. With that being said I'm grateful for all the miracles that have and continue to happen in my life and for those I witness in others, even you, because they truly do strengthen me and my faith daily.
"Often miracles are happening right in front of our eyes...but we think they should look different, so we miss them though they're right there."- Marianne Williamson.
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