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Miracles happen. Miracles happen everyday if you have the eyes to see them. To deny the existence of miracles would be to deny your own existence. I don't want to wax poetic or gush about flowers and rainbows like a teenage girl here, but in my 45 years I have experienced events and seen things that can only be described by calling them miracles.

There was the day that I stood in awed silence as my young wife culminated hours of pain, sweat and pushing and I watched the tiny little body of my beautiful daughter emerge from her mother. We experienced that miracle again the day my son was born in much the same way. There was the day that our first daughter looked me in the eyes for the first time, just minutes old, and she wrapped her tiny, baby soft fingers around my pinkie and lay her head on my chest.

Later on, there were the miracles of each one's first steps, first words and first days of school. Whether you believe in them or not, these times are miracles that you will never convince me don't exist.

There are many other things in our lives that have to be called miracles. Little things that in our fast paced, give it to me now world, we mostly take for granted. Things like the genius of DaVinci and Socrates or those who created spaceflight, the artistic ability of Michelangelo or Rembrandt, the creativity of Beethoven or Scott Joplin, and the amazing talents of Helen Keller or Ray Charles.

How does one rationalize the ugliest caterpillar morphing into the multi-colored monarch and the fury of centuries of volcanic activity and lava flows being transformed into one of the most beautiful paces on earth rising out of the Pacific? There is no other word for all of these things except miracle.

For me though, the existence of miracles dawned in my soul not through the reading of Scripture or the viewing of a sunrise, or even the birth of my children. For me, and I write of it often, miracles came into existence the day a skinny little runt of a woman, the most innocent, pure and beautiful thing I had ever seen looked into my eyes and said, "yes." That day, that moment in time, is etched into my memory as I can only imagine the Sistine Chapel filled the mind of its artist and the words to "Georgia, On my Mind" filled Ray's mind. It is the most supreme example of miracles existing that I know and the basis for my understanding that miracles happen to those who believe. If a loving God can reach down and touch the life of a wandering lost soul such as I was and fill it with the love, closeness and devotion that He gave to me for the last twenty years with her, then I need no further proof of miracles.

Miracles exist for all of us my friend; you only have to believe.

Learn more about this author, Edward Earl.
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