Where there is great love there are always miracles. --Willa Cather
Sometimes miracles come in increments, like words that build one by one to make a book that you can hold in your hands. Other times--the more awesome times-- come after a period of unseen mysteries in the darkness of the womb until, in the whisper of an early morning hour, the angels sing at the birth of a new little person. A new little person who, once you hold him in your hands, changes your world for the better just because he was born.
So it was for us this week when our second grandson Adrian--baby brother to big sister Angelica and cousin to our first grandson Nicholas--was born. A miracle in the warmth of his tiny body, his sweetness, his yawns and stretches, funny little grimaces, and, yes, even his loud cries that will take big sister some time to get used to.
Precious. There's nothing like the moment of gazing down into the face of newness, promise and hope, of joy and dancing of the heart.
No, it won't always be smooth going and happy dances, balloons and flowers, gifts and well-wishes. There might be nights of crying and fussiness to come. But the miracle is also in how love lays the foundation well and paves the way, lighting the path ahead.
Can you tell I'm a happy grandma? Along with Angelica and Nicholas, baby Adrian has not only captured a piece of my heart, but he has grabbed it tight with a mighty grasp for such a small hand.
In this season of celebrating the greatest miracle of all--God's gift of his Son to the world--I'm savoring a small taste of that great love in this birth week. Writing may be on hold for a few days. But you'll excuse me, won't you? I have a better miracle to hold in my hands for a time.
May this be a season of miracles for you, too.
"The child must know that he is a miracle, that since the beginning of the world there hasn't been, and until the end of the world there will not be, another child like him." --Pablo Casals