Little Miracles

There were a lot of moments this week that were honest, undeniable gifts from God. They came at a time when I really needed to see them—when I was praying for them: those assurances that He is watching you, and watching out for you:

· When my Dad mysteriously showed up behind me as I was walking into the church building for my cousin’s baptism. I was carrying both boys in my arms, holding tight to both of them, but also telling an (just awoken from his nap) ornery Aaron that he had to let go as soon as we got to the church’s door because mommy’s load was getting heavy. Then my dad came up behind me and took Aaron in his arms and said, “let me help you.” I was almost shocked, “How did you know I was here? And that I needed help?” I asked. He replied, “Mom told me to come find you. She felt like you needed help.”

· When the husband texted to tell me that he loves me right after Atrain had a minor meltdown. I hate it when he hits me. I try not to take it personal because he is only three, after all, but I always need a good reminder that someone loves me after moments like that.

· When we sang, “Because I Have Been Given Much” in church and I felt the Spirit bare witness of all the good gifts God has given me in my life. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I thought of my family, my friends, my good life and my desire to give all that I am and can be to God.

· Whenever baby J looked up at me from his crawl stance with his big two bottom-toothed grin, so proud of himself. I’m so proud of him too. I can’t believe he has two teeth, and that he’s already trying to crawl. This weekend I couldn’t help but be completely astonished by his patience whenever his attempts to move forward wobbled into a dive for the floor. That happens to me a lot too. I’m lucky to have a little sweet six month old to remind me about what it means to have patience. “In your patience possess ye your souls,” Luke 21:19.

· My sister Bambie’s birthday party and learning from her selfless approach to life.

· Listening to a conference talk by Claudio M. Costa about the Prophet Joseph Smith and feeling the desire to read Joseph Smith History.

· When I watched my little cousin go under the waters of baptism. It was so sweet. So pure—the promises he was making to God at such a young age. Eight years old seems so young to understand what a great commitment you are making. And yet, it is an inspired commitment that needs to be made continually after you enter the waters of baptism, an inspired way of life.

Missinaries Tuesday

Dear Elder I,

It’s late, and a lot of things are running through my mind tonight. This past week I felt stuck in a torrent of bad luck: I lost my key card, lost my keys, temporarily misplaced my husband, locked my keys in my car, and then ended it all with a bang in the ER with Atrain. Normally, I consider Sunday the first day of the week, but on this special occasion I’m officially kicking Sunday to the back of the line. No offense, I loved talking to you for a few seconds, but any day that ends with Atrain in the hospital is the worst day of the week.

We went to ER for another extreme case of vertigo. I can’t even imagine how it must be to feel like you hopped aboard an endless Gravitron ride. My poor boy. I wish there was more that I could do. He’s doing so much better now. In fact, we spent the day like many others: masquerading as Peter Pan, Wendy, and Michael; and then switched over to and Dar[k] Vader, Princess Leia and Yoda. Then we went to have sandwiches at Subway for dinner—a special treat, indeed. Atrain loves ham, olive, mayo and lettuce sandwiches.

We parked in front of Subway along a strip mall that is connected to our favorite grocery store. It’s our favorite because it reminds me of the grocery store back home: happy people, yummy samples and nice baggers who are always willing to push my cart out to the car when my hands are full of kiddos. I definitely took advantage of that service tonight. Atrain insisted on “checking out” all of the stores down the strip, so how could I refuse? I loved holding Jdog in my arms, pushing the stroller and watching Atrain walk so nimbly around the various store obstacles. He was perfectly balanced with such a determined stride. I like letting him lead the way. It’s often impractical, but he soaks those moments in—he asks questions, the makes observations, he discovers.

Before long, I discovered that we had walked all the way to the grocery store. Then, of course I had to get bread, milk, bananas, cheese, cereal, etc. I even picked up a bright blue dollar sword to surprise Atrain. I love surprising him. Before I knew it the basket of Jdog’s stroller was overflowing. But, the grocery store clerk insisted that one of their nice young baggers accompany me all the way to my car (about a block away). That bagger’s picture should be immortalized in a museum of amazing employees. What a nice young man. Service is the best way to sneak your way into someone’s heart.

We have been served a lot lately. I guess I’m just in a time of life where I need a lot of help, especially this last weekend. Jdog is still nursing, so I needed him at the hospital with me, and I needed to be with Atrain. Everyone in our family and the husband’s family volunteered to go. Mom won the “coveted” spot, and she endured a pretty sleepless night with me and the boys. The husband’s mom is planning on spending the night with us on Wednesday to help me while I’m working. I have been so blessed. I yearn to do more, to help more people, to be better, to have more faith. It was especially difficult on Sunday when I couldn’t even help my son. Sometimes it’s hard to pray and ask for a miracle. I never know what to expect, and often feel like the father of the child Christ healed who said, “Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief.”

I have faith that God can heal Atrain—he has and he does. It is a miracle that my child was born profoundly deaf, but he talks clearer than many hearing three year olds. It’s is a miracle that Atrain can be on the floor—unable to move with such extreme cases of vertigo, then 36 hours later be up on his feet, pretending to fly like Peter Pan. It is a miracle. And as I sat by his side, praying that God would heal him, and listened to Dad give him a Priesthood blessing that told him he would feel better soon, there was a part of me that wants to ask, “Now, please—heal him now.” But why would Christ heal one blind man on the spot, and then in a separate case make clay spittle, rub it on another blind man’s eyes and command him to wash in the pool? God knows what we need. Miracles and faith are interdependent, but I don’t think there is a “miracle quota” to fill: x amount of faith = x amount of miracles. Faith is the process by which miracles come to pass, and as my faith grows, the comprehension of the miracles God brings to pass in my life also grows. I believe in God. I hope for a better world, especially for my sons. My hope anchors my soul, and my faith helps me keep going—keep trying, keep praying, especially when I’m searching for a miracle.

I love you brother. Keep up the good work.

Love,
MJ