Miracles
Miracles. A word so overused today. Ya know? It seems to take all the power away from God when people call things miracles.
Life is a miracle. My life is a miracle. Many of my friends don't know I was born a month premature. They don't know my mom didn't get to hold me like she did when my brother was born. She only saw the doctors rush a bluish child from the delivery room. They don't know that I spent time in an oxygen tent. They don't know that I shouldn't have survived.
They don't know my parents prayed. They prayed, but it was an honest prayer. "Lord, please let us have him, but he's yours if you take him."
They knew that if God wanted me, I was His. They wanted me as well, but they let the final authority rest with God.
I survived with no damage. Else I wouldn't be writing this today.
Miracles.
I've rode horses since I was four or five. I've been thrown, kicked, bit, and stomped on. The worst injury I carry is a scar under my chin. Miracles.
I've been in two car accidents with my car. Both times I walked away without even a scratch. Miracles.
The Lord knows that I keep drifting away from him. He provides my miracles in the form of people: my friends, my family, and fellow students that I have tutored in various things over the years.
In my darkest hour, at the point of utter dispair, there is a light. There is always a light. God truly knows my strength and weakness. In my most suicidal moment, a light breaks the darkness. A friend, telling me how much they care. A former tutoree, if such a word exists, telling me how I affected his life. Two bags of sour worms, my favorite candy, and a note saying a friend appreciated the extra help in math.
Miracles.
So the next time something happens, don't call it a miracle. Reserve miracles for the hand of God.