I Believe in Miracles

I believe in miracles. A miracle is an event that is so shocking and unbelievable that sometimes it doesn’t even seem real. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? I have.

It was just last year when it happened. My mother noticed an odd bump on her neck one evening so she went to the doctor to see what it was from. When she got back from the doctor, he said she would have to go to the hospital immediately. My mother was instantly driven to the hospital by my father, leaving me in charge of my two younger brothers. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes wondering why our mother had gone to the hospital. Eventually we all had fallen asleep.

The next day everything seemed normal again. The thick, sweet aroma of coffee filling the humid air made me wonder if it was all just a bad dream. My two brothers, my father, and my mother all sat down at the breakfast table. Then when we were all sitting peacefully, my father broke the silence by telling us why they had to drive to the hospital so sudden.

When they got to the hospital my mother was observed by one of their doctors. The doctor, being as intelligent as he was, he suggested that my mother should have a CAT scan. After the CAT scan, my mother and father waited patiently for the results. What could it be? And where did it come from? When the doctor came back with the results he looked solemn and grave. He then explained, in detail, what was wrong. Her thyroid, a muscle in her neck, had a “virus”. And that “virus” was cancer. My mom had cancer. I felt broken and scared; my heart felt like it was torn apart. I couldn’t believe it. My father continued his story but I couldn’t listen, I was too shocked. She was going to need surgery and fast.

I continued the rest of my already miserable day at school. And I couldn’t get my mind off the fact that my sweet, loving mother could possibly die. Nothing in the world could make me happy. When I came home from school I silently cried myself to sleep. Right when I awakened I remembered today was the day. The day that my mom would go get surgery. My dad drove my sick mom to the hospital, and again I was stuck home alone with my two younger brothers. We instantly drifted off to sleep. My dad returned home early in the morning. But my mom was still at the hospital resting. I couldn’t wait to see her in two days. She finally returned. She was sleepy and tired but all I cared about was that she was alive. She was a cancer survivor.

It was a miracle, this I believe.