Friday, March 5, 2010

Miracles FAXED

Miracle Grow. Miracle Whip. Miracle Cream. Miracle bras. Gosh, I've tried them all and none of them seems to have worked. Are you like me? Do you want "poof", abracadabra, zip-zap changes in your life? Miracles. Now there's a provocative word. There are those of you who have witnessed miracles in your own lives---both physical and spiritual--and who believe wholeheartedly that complete transformation can happen. What is that? Is that faith? And then there are people like me who also have faith, but secretly and silently just can not buy in to that whole miracle stuff. Well, I used to couldn't. (Is that sentence even correct?) Ok, I used to didn't. That's better.
About five days after Taylor was born, a group of friends (not close friends, but friends none-the-less) called and asked us if they could come over to our house and pray over Taylor. Believe or not, I never turn down a good prayer, so I was anxious to say, "Of course." Not too long into out plan-making conversation, however, this friend told me that they were coming over to pray for Taylor's complete healing and restoration. Breathe. (I'm telling this to myself.) The Holy Huddlers were going to pray that Taylor's "genetic condition" would be "made right."
Let me just say that besides feeling like I was being kicked in the gut, I also began then to assume that I had done something wrong in giving birth to this less than perfect little baby boy. That was confirmed a bit later, when the leader of this powerful prayer group intimated that Taylor was "flawed" because I had sinned.
Well, heck yeah, I had "sinned." Get in line prayer lady friend. Wake up call: I'm human. (So was she; I just don't know if she had come to terms with that yet or not.) Anyway, if her premise was true, how come we all didn't have babies with Down Syndrome? For real. Following her logic did not take rocket science.
You guessed it. They didn't come. I wouldn't let them. Taylor was not healed. He was stuck with that same extra chromosome on his 21st pair---on all of the trillions of cells in his body. So... there was no miracle. Or.....was there?
I just love it how we decide what miracles look like and feel like. We get a firm and clear picture of a miracle in our heads and that image seems to be the only miracle option as far as we're concerned. We tell God (that name again) what to do and spell out the complete design of the miracle we have coming to us. We might as well just FAX it in. 'Cause,gosh, we all have the big picture on our screen savers at all times, don't we? It's got to make you chuckle on some level, doesn't it? Have you heard this too: Wanna make God laugh? Tell him your plans.
Miracles lie in wait--- is what I am thinking. They lie/lay/lain there until we are able to claim them in our very own way, for our very own lives, with our very own personalities and situations. The healing that happened in our house, happened not with Taylor's complete restoration, but with my own. I am going to say this honestly and completely: It was a miracle that I learned to love my child. Are you disappointed? (Were you hoping I had told you that he had thrown down his crutches and walked?) Does a mother's heart opening up completely and utterly after devastation constitute a miracle? Who can we call to check that one out? Who decides the miracle rules anyway?
You know, we sit around and wonder why the Arabs won't love the Jews (miracle?) and yet we won't even pick up the phone and call that relative that we can't stand. (Miracle call?) Do you think it's a miracle when your lonely child finds that one good friend to hang out with? Would it be a miracle if you heard yourself saying five incredibly kind words to a co-worker about whom you gossip? What about the miracle of the husband who has lost his beloved wife or a mother whose daughter was senselessly murdered or whose son was killed in Mosul? Isn't it a miracle that they are still willing to put on their shoes each day---and walk? A family who welcomes home the son they didn't want to be gay or the daughter whose harmful life choices have broken a parent's heart--is that acceptance not a complete miracle? So, here's what miraculous: Allowing our hearts to be stretched beyond what we could ever have imagined. Being radically open to dreams and experiences that were never even on our radar and that do not fit comfortably into our controlled little plan. Loving far beyond our human bounds and capacities---acceptance without walls--living an extraordinarily authentic life---being able to love unconditionally who is or what is in our lives.
Pretty darn miraculous.
How 'bout FAXING that one in?


  1. Okay, Marianne, I am going to be the first to openly proclaim your miracle on this blogspot - She's alive! She really lives! And the miracle is that about 20 years or so ago I wasn't so sure that was going to happen!I remember calling my super-conservative Christian brother Joe to ask how he had managed to "love" Jolie, with all her unnamed conditions. I was going to help you find that love for Taylor. Guess what? You didn't need me or brother Joe - Taylor did it all by himself. What's not to love????
    Continued peace and miraculous love,

  2. Well, there's a wonderful picture of you teaching Taylor to walk in an upcoming blog. You have been a part of this miracle. Wait, go check your FAX. I'm sending it now. It'll say, " Do-nah taught Taylor to walk. Miracle."
    Thank you for all words and actions.

  3. So who are you going to call today? Or would you just like to go to the Cox reunion with me in two weeks? I think you might be called to preach. Are you listening?

  4. And the miracle of reconnecting with you at exactly the right moment in time and space. Your honesty is instructive......and when I follow it (the lesson of honesty) it is healing.
    I knew a little girl whose name was "Amiricola Gah Ahmen Peese." She pronounced it "A mirale of God Amen Peace".
    There was absolutely no shortened form of calling her name that wasn't a prayer.....Just reading it on paper it looks like uncommon sets of names that we work out syllable by syllable not seeing or hearing it at all. THEN bam, sha zam, or whatever....she melodically says her name. I guess all the miracles in my life have been like her name.....hidden until the melody somehow sings through someone else. Lately, its been through YOU.

  5. That was supposed to read A MIRACLE of God Amen Peace.
    I never claimed I could spell.

  6. I love that name--no matter how it's spelled. And, I love you too, Ms. Wonder Woman, master teacher (among many things!)

  7. made me cry again, just wonderful writing and you are so beautiful in the picture with baby taylor!

  8. I tell you what: it really IS inspiring when a certified "Queen-With-a-Scepter IN SERVICE" comes clean in public! This blog is an excellent source for discovering whether or not your tear-duct glans are functioning properly! Onward, May-REE! Go DAWGS!


Thank you so much for your comments. I know it's scary to put yourself out there. I really appreciate your being on this journey with me. You really are brave..