Have you ever been up close to a miracle before?
Maybe you’ve been on the receiving end of a miraculous healing that only could have come as the result of divine intervention. Maybe you’ve experienced a reconciliation that would have been impossible on human terms. Or maybe you’ve witnessed something that simply couldn’t be explained by a natural phenomenon.
I’ve seen miracles before—some of them on a smaller scale, and others that played out in grand fashion. I’ve seen sunsets and majestic mountain scenes that had to have been crafted by a divine hand. I’ve seen hardened hearts transformed. I’ve seen trapped people set free. I’ve seen sick people made well.
And I’ve heard of miracles too—stories from friends and family members and strangers who have had God step in and intervene in some powerful way. I’ve heard their tales of miraculous transformation, and their faith has made mine stronger.
As intangible as faith usually is, miracles bring faith to life through our senses—God breaks through the door of heaven and allows us to see or hear him in a more concrete way than we usually do. (That said, I’m not sure I’ve smelled or tasted a miracle before, although my grandmother’s cinnamon rolls come close.)
I may have seen and heard miracles before, but I can say this for sure: I’ve never felt a miracle.
Now, for the first time, I’m experiencing a miracle from a whole new perspective. I find that my body is the very scene of a miracle.
Somehow, some way, there is a miracle growing inside of me—moving inside of me, kicking inside of me (maybe even doing pirouettes inside of me, the best I can tell). I didn’t create this life; I’ve merely been chosen as the setting for this child to grow.
As much as I do my best to create a safe, healthy place for my baby—curbing my coffee addiction, scrupulously skipping the blue cheese, making sure I don’t lift anything heavy—ultimately I play a small role in this miracle.
God is knitting this tiny person together, and I have the privilege of not only seeing it or hearing about it but actually feeling the miracle inside my body.
This pregnancy has had its share of bumps and scares, but regardless of the outcome, I don’t want to forget that this is a miracle—a nine-months-in-the-making miracle that is getting bigger and more miraculous by the day.
And here’s something I’ve learned about miracles along the way: like the fluttering kicks of a baby, they aren’t always obvious right away. They don’t always announce themselves with dramatic fanfare. Sometimes they start small and bashful, just waiting for us to quiet our hearts to notice them. And be grateful for them.
Maybe you are looking for a miracle right now. Maybe you’ve been waiting and longing and praying for so long that you are weary, almost scared to keep hoping.
If this is you, please don’t give up. You may very well be the scene of a miracle yourself. And that miracle may be starting even now, with the smallest of flutterings within your own heart.
I have always imagined miracles to be like loud shouts. Like trumpet blasts. But they are secretive. They are more like deeply buried seeds. . . . Always, God is tugging us toward resurrection, tugging us and this whole weary, winter world toward new life. But the way is dark. The road is long. The path is quiet. It is paved with hunger.
Christie Purifoy, Roots and Sky
Oh friend. Once again you’ve amazed me with the way you string words together in such an inspiring way. Love this. Love you.
That means a lot coming from a word-girl yourself! 🙂
Kristen Joy Wilks says
Thank you, Stephanie. This is such a good reminder. I have seen miracles, too. A child with terminal brain cancer, inexplicably healed. God, reaching down and directing my husband and I to work at Bible camp. The Lord telling me in no uncertain terms that for us, the right thing for our children was public school, anything less would be disobedience. I balked, public school, really? And yet so many blessings have come from our obedience. That free van that broke down a year later, but that allowed our family to go to Yellowstone with my mother. And yes, the joy we had when our sons grew slowly and beautifully in my womb, so many years ago. Thank you, Stephanie for reminding us to stop and look for the miracles.
What beautiful tangible reminders of God’s intervention in your life! Thanks for sharing!
Wow. Loved this.
Thank you, my friend.
Oh, Stephanie and Daniel, thank you for Sharing this journey with us!!!! Your heart is precious!!! I love you❤️
Thanks for the love, prayers, and support, Alice!
Linda Sladkey says
I got goose bumps reading this! Love the image of small and bashful miracles. And when I get weary of the waiting I love Habakkuk 2:3: “For the vision is yet for the appointed time; It hastens toward the goal and it will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; For it will certainly come, it will not delay.”
Linda Mackillop says
What a grand place God chose for a miracle…inside Stephanie Rische. Praying for you, Daniel, and Spark.
Oh, thank you, Linda!
Ooh, what a great verse! I’m writing this one down. Thanks, Linda.
Nadia Ianakieva says
What a wonderful story about the most wonderful miracle of all!
Thank you, sweet Nadia!