The doctors told me I would have problems conceiving you, sweet baby girl. But I worship the God of miracles, so why was I surprised to find two little blue lines on a stick before we even started trying for a baby?
The doctors told me I would miscarry you. But I worship the God of miracles, so why was I surprised when week after week, you continued to grow inside me? Why was I surprised when 37 weeks later, a strong little girl made her way into my arms?
The doctors told me I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed you. But I worship the God of miracles, so why was I surprised when my milk came in after they said it wouldn’t? Why was I surprised when my milk was enough for you when they said I couldn’t possibly produce all that you needed?
Today the doctors told us that there is something wrong with your small body. Something that could make life difficult for you. Something that could make life short for you. And my soul wants to split and wail and hide you away from these scary things. But I worship the God of miracles. And your life has been full of miracles. So I will not be surprised to see my God show up in this trial. I will not be surprised to see my God wrap his arms around you, around me and your daddy, around your doctors, and carry us through this. I refuse to be surprised by miracles.
Instead I will continue to worship the God of miracles. I will wait expectantly at His feet, knowing that He has promised you complete healing—be it on Earth or in Heaven. And I will remember, whatever the outcome of this terrifying trial, that my God of miracles has never failed me.
So, dear reader, whatever it is that’s weighing heavy on your heart, I invite you to join me at the feet of the God of miracles. Maybe your miracles have looked different from mine. Maybe it feels as if He hasn’t given you the miracles that you long for. Whatever that means for you, I am confident that He’s been with you through each step of your journey. And let’s not be surprised to see Him show up again.
Because we worship the God of miracles.
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