The miracle and the marvel

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My daughter came running towards me, holding both hands tightly over her right eye.  Her face was bright red and wet from crying.  Through her tears, I heard the terrifying word…scissors.  The scissors slipped…

I felt dizzy from the millions of frightening things that rushed through my mind.  Blood…blind…please, please God no…

I drew in a deep breath as I peeled her hands down from her eye.

Its just the eyelid. Just a scratch.  Only a scratch.  Dear God, thank you, thank you.

I marveled at the miracle of the near miss.  Just half an inch more….  Guardian angel!  St. Raphael!  God, you are so good, so kind and so merciful.

And then my mom-brain kicked in.  What were you girls doing with the scissors?!  The two girls had been bent over a pair of new lacrosse goggles with scissors trying to remove the price tag when the scissors made their fateful slip.  Goggles…the irony.

My feeling of marvel at the miracle of God’s mercy would grow, unexpectedly, through two other encounters that day.

Later that day, I saw a neighbor I hadn’t seen for a long time.  I hadn’t seen her husband for a much longer time and felt drawn to ask – did Ed pass away?  Irene held back tears as she said that Ed had died of cancer four years earlier.  She didn’t tell anyone except close friends.

I felt an aching and breaking in my heart for Irene.  I wish I would have known so I could have been a better neighbor to her. 

As I returned to my family, my sense of marvel grew into thankfulness to God for our lives and our health.  Overwhelming thankfulness - for God holding us in the palm of his hand every single day keeping us safe and protected and comforted.  And loved.  Through no merit of our own.  Totally loved.

At Mass that evening, the priest prayed for a family shattered by a car accident.  The father, mother and son all died at the scene.  The daughter was in the hospital with life threatening injuries.  God, please save her.  Console her. 

Their whole world changed in a tragic instant.  And we played lacrosse on the lawn on a beautiful sunny afternoon.  Lord, I am not worthy…

My daughter says she had an unlucky weekend to have to go to school with a scratch on her eyelid.  I told her she had the most blessed weekend a girl can have.  

When I look at her eye, I don’t see a scratch.  I see the wounds of Christ.  I see His love and mercy poured out for us on the cross.  We are loved.  We are saved.  

It’s a miracle.  And a marvel.