tiny miracles

out in the garden yesterday, a variety of bees were hard at work. they bounced among the purple blooms, seemingly methodical in their task. feeling brave since i knew they were distracted, i crept close to examine them through my camera lens. my favorites were the large bumble bees with their paper-thin wings, bulbous black heads, and thick, fuzzy golden bodies. some were small babies the size of house-flies, each one created for a purpose they were just beginning to learn as they danced along the sage brush.


we received a letter this week from some friends who are dear to us, sharing the news that the wife has become a surrogate for a couple they know who lost a child during pregnancy and are unable to carry another. though our friend is nearing fifty and has two young sons, she has entered into the wild adventure of pregnancy for the sake of another family. i can hardly imagine.

as i read the letter, i held tightly to my own son, who sat on my knee munching on a frog rattle and drooling happily. not a day goes by that i don’t think about the wonder of life that he is, and how grateful i am for his existence.

the paragraph that brought tears to both jeremy and i [separately] was this:

“After a son was born to the aged Abraham and Sarah, Sarah said, ‘God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.’ Such laughter acknowledges what we believe to be true—that God is the Lord of wildly absurd grace and love, who is full of surprises beyond our imagining.”

we have come to see this as truth in our lives, appropriately through the guidance and counsel of this very couple. they were the ones who nudged jeremy to propose to me, supported us after my father’s death, and celebrated the news of our pregnancy with us… each of those experiences bringing tiny but important miracles of their own.