This week I have been bombarded with memories and images I would rather forget. Tearstained pillows, pill bottles beckoning my name, wooing me with the simplicity it takes to breathe one's final breath, and hate, so much hate for the little girl inside of me that had no idea what a life without dysfunction looked like. A little girl who felt like she had the whole world on her shoulders and had let it down in it's entirety.
I found my heart heavy with one question: Why do I remember it like it just happened when I have been walking in 5 years of glorious hard fought freedom? And as I thought through it I realized there are two reasons:
The Lord wants me to tell the stories no one else tells, the truths that come when He comes in the most unexpected way.
You can only change the world when your heart breaks right alongside His.
There was a time in my life when because Jesus did not come in a miraculous way and take away the pain in my body, and the memories in my mind I thought He didn't do miracles for me, but He did. Sometimes miracles come in sacrifice. Miracles come when you put it all on the line, everything you ever wanted and He gives you so much more. But most of all, miracles come when you allow His presence to come in whatever way He wants.
For me, my miracles sometimes come in the things that I once hated most.
CP. Yes, Cerebral Palsy has rapidly become one of the biggest miracles God worked in my life. He took something that robbed me of the life I thought I always wanted and used it to show me the incredible life He wanted to give me instead.
I fully believe that if Jesus wanted my feet to run He could heal me and I could run a marathon tomorrow, but maybe healing isn't the miracle He wants to perform.
Maybe the miracle comes in quietly, so I have to pay attention.
Maybe the miracle comes when my nieces learn to see differences as a blessing, a way to help instead of a burden the way I always feared they might.
Maybe the miracle comes in knowing even if I am sore tomorrow He still has a plan.
Maybe the miracle comes when I board the bus and get to talk to the lady on dialysis about who my Jesus is.
Maybe the miracle comes in the life I am living, instead of the life I thought I wanted.
There are still miracles I long for that are not happening the way I wish they would. But here is what I am confident in: Jesus loves me. And He is there in the heartbreak. And He is faithful, and His pen writes the stories no one tells...the stories with a happily forever after ever every soul dreams of:
And I will rest in that