I have heard it said, that big miracles don’t happen anymore, and God doesn’t speak to people the way He did in the Bible. In the wake of hurricanes Harvey and Irma we’ve seen many stories of miraculous occurrences and people demonstrating a spirit of love and selflessness. This got me thinking about the recent miracles in my own life.
When I was first diagnosed, that first week was like an out of body experience. I was on autopilot. I’d hear myself telling friends and family about my diagnosis, but every time, it felt as if I was standing outside watching myself through a window.
Once I’d had my lumpectomy and the not so stellar pathology report, sleep was not really happening. After a few nights of staring at the ceiling for hours, I slipped quietly out of bed. There on my knees, I asked, nope begged God for a sign. My own personal burning bush, a giant angel, anything to assure me that I could beat this. I wanted proof of life. It wasn’t too long after my urgent plea, I found out I was pregnant. While the ObGyn saw an obstacle to my treatment, that ultrasound heartbeat was my parted Red Sea.
What better symbolizes life than a heartbeat and a growing baby? When it was recommended, I terminate, I didn’t consider it for even a moment, I knew without a doubt this pregnancy was an answered prayer, a reminder that I was not alone.
Now, the Lord never sent anyone with wings (well, visible ones) to speak to me, but I can see His hand in so much of the happenings in this past year. I was scheduled for a PET scan shortly after my lumpectomy, but the doctor canceled the appointment over some confusion with my insurance. The little insurance snafu turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because PET scans and pregnancy do not mix.
There of course was the amazing team I found closer to home for treatment and the new obgyn that so graciously prayed for me and my unborn child.
Anytime I started to feel overwhelmed, discouraged, or anxious, I would get at least one encouraging phone call, text, package, and/or letter. Seriously, every single time.
I mentioned sleepless nights earlier, but even before my diagnosis, it was hard for me to fall asleep. I am a worrier and a little bit of a control freak, although I much prefer “strategist”. I would lie in bed replaying the day’s events analyzing them, remembering everything I forgot to do, making plans for the next day or two…or five. Once I decided to genuinely let go and let God, I now fall asleep with no trouble, well unless Dave is snoring, or Micah can’t sleep because one of her eyelashes hurt. (True story.)
The most obvious miracle is of course the delectable baby I had in April, born healthy and happy. She is the happiest of happy babies, always giggling, gurgling, and smiling. Just in case the adorable baby wasn’t enough of a reminder, and because I believe God is thorough and wanted there to be no doubt that it was His involvement, look at this birthmark.
Now, y’all can go ahead and zoom out, the birthmark does not look like Jesus, the cross, or Mother Mary. Her birthmark is in the exact spot where my lump was located and pretty much the same size.
Now many of you will chalk this all up to coincidence, and that’s fine. I say, “Well played God, well played”, because I know He gets me and probably got a kick out of my face when I saw it there, and heard the pediatrician describe its location the exact way the location of my lump was documented.
flint & honey 