Do you believe in miracles?

I do. I’ve been praying for one for fifteen years now, and I never actually got it, but I still believe. Miracles happen every day. Children are born, people are healed, and I take a breath every second and every single breath is a miracle in and of itself. So, do I believe in miracles? Of course I do. The other night, as I was lying on my back tangled up in a vine playing man hunt with some pretty great new friends, I found peace. I was looking up at the stars laughing at some of the things Pa used to say. (…“Boys…” he’d say…yeah…I was one of the boys, but I didn’t mind one bit) I realized as I laid there in silence that I did get my miracle…I got 15 years with my grandfather. 15 years to pray for that miracle, 15 years to listen to him and visit him.. 15 years to learn from him. I got 20 years to love him…and every single day that I got to love Pa...well, that was a miracle. And I thank my God for every single time I remember him, and every time I got to say, “I love you.” And…for every single breath that he was able to take. Because every single breath he took was a miracle in and of itself. The last thing he said to me was, “I love you, baby.” And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I am blessed that my last memory of him I got to tell him that I love him....I miss him so much already, but it was time for him to go home and be with Grannyma again.