I believe in miracles - my first blog

In the words of the 70’s pop sensation, Hot Chocolate, I believe in miracles. The Bible is filled with amazing supernatural stories that stirs my heart to see how big and loving God is. He parted seas, raised the dead, and (my personal favorite) turned water into wine. Knowing that my God has done this and so much more, builds my faith. If He did these things in the past, He will do them again today!

Recently I realized that I was not always walking in faith. I had become what I now call, a spiritual smart a*se. I was living my life believing that as a Christian, God would always come and save me, answer my prayers and do what I asked. And I mean, why not? I pray. I serve others. I worship Him. I try my best to live my life as the Bible shows us to live. Don’t judge. Show mercy. Take care of the lonely and the uncared for. I give money to the church. I do my part, so God will do His.

Now don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t trying to manipulate God. I just thought this was the Christian life. Do what He says and life will be ‘awesome’ or ‘amazing’.

But for the last 12 months, my doctrine has been tested. Last year was tough. Josh and I lost two babies in the first trimester of pregnancy. The first we lost at 9 weeks, which resulted in surgery. And the second miscarriage happened only the next month. It was a difficult time in our lives, but we got through it together.

We both want to start our family, so every month we hoped to conceive. And on July 1st, I peed on a stick and found out we were expecting!

I cut out wine. I started to tell a few of our closest friends. I began my wish-list at Babies R Us. I was choosing the color I wanted Josh to paint the nursery. I was nervous, but I chose to trust a miracle working God and everything would be OK.

We saw the little peanut at 5 weeks. All was well. For the next few weeks I was nauseous, exhausted and totally off all meat. These were all good signs! This baby was growing!!!

But at an 8 week ultrasound, the little one only measured 6 weeks and her heartbeat was weak. My heart sank. “Could this be really happening again??” I thought. But like a good English girl, I kept calm and I carried on.

For the next week, sweet friends would call me or text me trying to encourage me not to give up. Someone I worked with said, “You are in the place where God can give you a miracle”. For a moment, my heart leapt. “Yes!!” I thought. “God is a miracle working God. He can give life to this little one!” So I prayed at many different decibels over my belly. I drank lots of water and dandelion tea to help clean my blood. I prayed more. I worshiped. I kept the faith….

But to no avail. The following week there was no heartbeat. There had been no ‘miracle’ to speak of. No seeming intervention of God. And this miscarriage did not end quickly. I waited 5 weeks to pass the baby, and in the end I had surgery to remove all the tissue. This was far from a miracle. This was a nightmare.

As I have begun to heal, my eyes have been opened. I have experienced love and support in ways I could not have imagined. Sometimes the miracle is not the miracle we expect. The miracle is found when your seamstress won’t charge you for a dress fitting, because she says that no woman should have to pay for a fitting because she lost a baby. The miracle is found when a friend sits with you for 8 hours so you are not alone as you prepare for surgery. The miracle is found when the heavily pregnant friend comes with her active toddler, to your house, just to pray with you and give you dinner. The miracle is found when the busy mum and grandma from church stops everything so they can be there when you wake up after surgery.

These are my miracles. And I really do believe in miracles.