Different Kinds of Everything - Elisabeth Klein
I bought a cat today.  He was handed to me at a friend’s garage sale and it was love at first sight.  I named him Coco.  He will never die, never run away from me, never stir up catfood-related arguments, and will never make me sneeze.  He’s fake.  This silly fake cat makes me smile for a bunch of reasons.  Because my friends think it’s hysterical.  Because cats and my odd relationship with them have been fodder for way too many jokes.  Because I have literally lost thirteen cats in the past three years and that’s just crazy.  (I don’t want to talk about it.)  So, this is – and trust me, I know it sounds insane – kind of therapeutic.  That I can have a great big laugh over a fake cat in the middle of my largest and longest crisis is a miracle.
A different kind of miracle, with a different kind of healing.
And this, my friends, is what I’m now after.  I have prayed for over fifteen years for one very specific miracle in my life, one very specific kind of healing.  I can almost officially call time of death.  I can pretty much officially say that it is not going to happen.  But in that same breath I can officially yell from the rooftops that Jesus did not fail me.  My life is not turning out the way I thought it would or should and my prayers did not get answered the way I assumed they would or should, but I’m so going to be okay.  More than okay.
And here’s why.  Because there aren’t one-size-fits-all miracles.  And healings aren’t commonplace, something that just get stamped onto everyone’s forehead looking exactly the same no matter the unique circumstances.
In the middle of all of this pain and all of this mess and all of this brokenness that is currently the state of my life, I can smile.  I can laugh huge laughs.  I can visit a friend’s daughter in the hospital and bring her a Tinkerbell pez dispenser.  And I can volunteer with a third-grade boy at my kids’ school who has a hard time with English.  And I can take my daughter summer clothes shopping.  And I can play basketball at 9 o’clock at night with my son because why the heck not?  And I can write and I can breathe deeply and I can love my friends and I can pray and I can buy a fake cat because it’s the funny thing to do.
I am experiencing a miracle.  I am already being healed.  I’m not at the end of my marathon and it’s not going to look like what many have hoped but it just might look better than anyone thought and I just might end up more whole than when this thing started.  And that’s what I call a miracle.

If this post encouraged you, you would benefit from “Unraveling: Hanging onto Faith through the End of a Christian Marriage”, found here or “Living through Divorce as a Christian Woman”, found here.