Have you ever been the witness to a miracle?
Maybe it depends on what you define as a miracle, but I suspect, big or small, we all have witnessed at least one. Probably many, many more.
My seven year old wholeheartedly believes he witnessed one just yesterday, in fact.
When I picked him up from school, he was, as usual, incredibly eager to tell me all about his day. And the first thing he just HAD to share was his clear and undeniable evidence of the power of prayer.
“Hey Mom, I know God works miracles! Today, I saw proof!”
“Yea, cause you see I thought I wouldn’t get to go to the treasure box in PE, but then I stopped and prayed to God that I would. And then, I got this!”
He held up a red, blue, and orange striped bouncy ball and smiled so big his lips stretched almost to his ears.
“You see,” he said. “Miracle!”
Maybe there was a lesson in there for him I could have issued about prayer and what we ask for and what really is God answering us.
Maybe, however, there was a bigger lesson for me about turning to God, arms wide open and telling God exactly what I want.
Truth be told, all I could think in that particular moment was – when was the last time I was as lit up inside as he by the mere thought that God heard and answered even my humblest of prayers?
I think there was a time between childhood and now when I started to feel that God’s answers weren’t as clear as the feel of a smooth, rubber bouncy ball resting in my outstretched hands.
And when that time occurred, I lost sight of the subtle miracles God preformed for me everyday.
I failed to recognize and celebrate the grace that is always meeting me where I am at.
The subtle grace that always finds me and never lets me go.
Maybe today, if the mood strikes us, we should pause and pray: “God let me go to the treasure box today.” And when God responds, however God responds, allow ourselves to be lit up inside by the mere fact that we were… seen.