Witnessing miracles

You know Einstein's saying, "Either nothing is a miracle, or everything is"? My mind tends to believe the "nothing" and my heart the "everything". But last night my mind and heart teamed up with a celebratory, "Wow."

Our friend Philip came home from the hospital after surgery for colon cancer. His doctors took out a big tumor, a foot and a half of colon, and a lot of lymph nodes. His prognosis looks very good -- no sign of cancer in the nodes.

That's not the miracle.

His family is extraordinary. You meet them for the first time and just want to stay quietly in their living room. Their love for each other, and their generosity toward the world, is palpable. It's not niceness, per se. It's love of God and others.

That's not the miracle, either.

There was a glow about Philip, and a peacefulness in the house that was not broken even when the dog started barking and the younger child energized the air. He told us about the surgery, the pathology, and the doctors. How the nodes looked really, really bad, and how amazed and relieved the surgeon and pathologist each time one turned up negative. How wonderful every one of the doctors was. How he'd had no anxiety all along.

How people all over the world had been praying for him. And how he'd felt it, felt secure in it.

We could see him and his family resting in God's hands. Secure. Safe. Illuminated. Incarnate.

My husband and I spent a lot of time praising God last night, thanking God for safe deliverance, for all the praying people, for healing of bodies and souls.

God is active, present, and healing in that family. I don't know why, and why not elsewhere, and really, I don't much care. But today, everything is a miracle, because I saw one last night, and knew it when I saw it.

That's the miracle.