Invisible Miracles

To the naked eye there is nothing miraculous or extraordinary about this picture. In fact, it might appear rather mundane. A veritable snapshot of Americana - young and old alike waving the red, white and blue in the middle of the town square as the locals float by in 90 plus degree heat. The entire town comes out to participate for just one moment of Mayberry every year. Most everyone is completely oblivious to the miracle that stands beside them.

This is not a post about the virtues of our American culture or of small town life or even of our amazing liberties. This is instead a moment as a mom to thank my God for the miracle that this picture captures.

It has only been in the last year and a half that we could appreciate the intensity of this miracle. Had we not known the complete opposite of this moment for so many months, we might have missed the sacredness of it.

Zero in on the young girl with the silk black hair standing less than a few inches apart from the people around her. She is standing at the front of the line watching the boisterous crowds go by. It may be 99 degrees outside, but her summer scarf is tightly wrapped for security purposes. The revelers standing next to her cannot possibly see or imagine what a holy moment this is for her and her family. How I wish I could have given them my eyes to see that moment for what it really was. They all would have left there blessed beyond their wildest imagination.

If I could have given them the eyes of this mom who is Livin’ With Isms, they would have, as I did, have to turn away and catch their breath from the beauty of it all. If they could have seen this same girl just a few months prior, they would never have believed it possible. They would have seen this girl and her family living like hermits to avoid the pain that so much “fun” could cause. They would have been horrified to witness this stunning young girl curled up on the floor begging not to go where it was loud, or people might touch her or where she would have to stand and wait. They would have been dumbfounded at how such a bright and promising young girl could appear so childlike and regressive when everyone around her was celebrating.

Had I the presence of mind, I would have asked for the power of Elisha in 2 Kings 6:17, when he asked the Lord to let his terrified servant see the invisible army that was waiting in arms to help them fight their battle. It was an Invisible Miracle just like ours. There on a hilltop stood a vast army of angels waiting to fight alongside Elisha and his servant. Elisha could see them because he had seen these kind of invisible miracles before. He knew the power of the unseen to affect the seen. He knew he was not alone in this battle. He knew that God would not have put him in such a position without power and certainly not without back up. It was his joy to pull back the curtain and let his servant see what he saw. “And Elisha prayed, "O LORD, open his eyes so he may see." Then the LORD opened the servant's eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.”

This Fourth of July was such a moment for us. We stood there together after months and months of therapy, tests, counseling, praying, fasting, doctors, tears, screams, fits, and trusting. We have believed this army is there, battling it out with us even when we cannot see them. They were there in the middle of the town square, helping my little girl use all that she has learned and enjoying the healing she is experiencing. They were there. More importantly He was there. He was there encouraging her every moment that He was healing her and that these were moments meant for her enjoyment.

I am truly in awe of my daughter’s determination and perseverance. She continues to fight even on days that don’t look as miraculous as this one. I am in awe of a God who speaks to her heart in ways that I couldn’t possibly to assure her it is all worth it. I am in awe that He pulls back the curtain and allows me to see what is not seen and enjoy the mystery of His kindness. Perhaps there were hundreds of invisible miracles that day and I was only privy to one, but that one continues to bring me to my knees and beg for more.