What About MY Miracle?
If you are like me, you have prayed for a miracle.
Or several. Or many. Miracles.
I’ve tried to use the power of prayer to change the mind of God. More than once. That’s what I thought a miracle was. Saying the right prayer, at the right time, in the right way, with the right people ... to get God to see things my way, and change the direction life was moving in.
I wanted God to do life “my way.”
My guess is that you have wanted that, too.
On July 18th of 1990, as my 18-month-old daughter Erin lay strapped in an ICU crib at Rush-Pres.-St. Luke’s on Chicago’s west side about to undergo dialysis for her just diagnosed hemolytic uremic syndrome ... I prayed, and I prayed hard, for a miraculous, complete, speedy recovery. So life could get back to normal. So we could be a family again.
My daughter was dead within a few hours.
On New Year’s Eve 1998, as my 43-year-old wife Trici, lay in an ICU bed at Oak Park Hospital in Oak Park, Illinois, hooked up to a ventilator, I prayed that God would miraculously and spontaneously heal her. So we could get back home and continue raising our two sons, 3-year-old Sean and 7-year-old Rory. So we could get back to living the life we had worked so damned hard to create following the death of our daughter.
My wife died in the early hours of New Year’s Day 1999.
And in the winter of 2005, as I flew my 13-year-old son Rory to Houston, Texas to try an experimental, controversial, incredibly expensive treatment for the brain cancer that had been diagnosed just a few short months earlier, I prayed that we would be the exception. I prayed that God would use us to show the power of prayer to change outcomes. I prayed that this most amazing boy with the terminal brain cancer, and the dead older sister, and the dead mother would recover.
Rory died on February 22, 2005.
If you are like me, you have prayed for a miracle.
Each of us has our story.
And we each hold on to beliefs about our stories. Beliefs that can cause us incredible pain.
Beliefs such as:
He was stolen from me.
She died too young.
We were robbed.
I should have been there.
I could have saved him.
Her death is my fault.
I am not a good mother.
I was not a good husband.
I will never be happy again.
There will always be a great, big hole.
Perhaps you are holding on to some of these painful beliefs. Or other, similar, painful beliefs.
Author Marianne Williamson defines a miracle as “a change in perception.”
That simple.
That profound.
I have grown to love that definition of a miracle. A change in perception.
That definition of a miracle gives meaning to prayer.
Not to change the perfect mind of God, but rather to change me, my perception. Of life as it has unfolded, and as it is unfolding.
So the miracle for me is questioning the beliefs I hold on to that cause me pain.
And I ask myself, is it true that ~
He was stolen from me?
That she died too young?
That we were robbed?
That I should have been there?
That I could have saved him?
That her death is my fault?
That I am not a good mother?
That I was not a good husband?
That I will never be happy again?
That there will always be a great, big hole?
Or is there another way of looking at life? At my life? At my story?
Can a miracle occur? Can I change my perception about what happened?
So, when you pray. If you pray. Consider praying for that.
For a miracle. For a change in perception.
But only if you want to make peace with life. Your life.
Or several. Or many. Miracles.
I’ve tried to use the power of prayer to change the mind of God. More than once. That’s what I thought a miracle was. Saying the right prayer, at the right time, in the right way, with the right people ... to get God to see things my way, and change the direction life was moving in.
I wanted God to do life “my way.”
My guess is that you have wanted that, too.
On July 18th of 1990, as my 18-month-old daughter Erin lay strapped in an ICU crib at Rush-Pres.-St. Luke’s on Chicago’s west side about to undergo dialysis for her just diagnosed hemolytic uremic syndrome ... I prayed, and I prayed hard, for a miraculous, complete, speedy recovery. So life could get back to normal. So we could be a family again.
My daughter was dead within a few hours.
On New Year’s Eve 1998, as my 43-year-old wife Trici, lay in an ICU bed at Oak Park Hospital in Oak Park, Illinois, hooked up to a ventilator, I prayed that God would miraculously and spontaneously heal her. So we could get back home and continue raising our two sons, 3-year-old Sean and 7-year-old Rory. So we could get back to living the life we had worked so damned hard to create following the death of our daughter.
My wife died in the early hours of New Year’s Day 1999.
And in the winter of 2005, as I flew my 13-year-old son Rory to Houston, Texas to try an experimental, controversial, incredibly expensive treatment for the brain cancer that had been diagnosed just a few short months earlier, I prayed that we would be the exception. I prayed that God would use us to show the power of prayer to change outcomes. I prayed that this most amazing boy with the terminal brain cancer, and the dead older sister, and the dead mother would recover.
Rory died on February 22, 2005.
If you are like me, you have prayed for a miracle.
Each of us has our story.
And we each hold on to beliefs about our stories. Beliefs that can cause us incredible pain.
Beliefs such as:
He was stolen from me.
She died too young.
We were robbed.
I should have been there.
I could have saved him.
Her death is my fault.
I am not a good mother.
I was not a good husband.
I will never be happy again.
There will always be a great, big hole.
Perhaps you are holding on to some of these painful beliefs. Or other, similar, painful beliefs.
Author Marianne Williamson defines a miracle as “a change in perception.”
That simple.
That profound.
I have grown to love that definition of a miracle. A change in perception.
That definition of a miracle gives meaning to prayer.
Not to change the perfect mind of God, but rather to change me, my perception. Of life as it has unfolded, and as it is unfolding.
So the miracle for me is questioning the beliefs I hold on to that cause me pain.
And I ask myself, is it true that ~
He was stolen from me?
That she died too young?
That we were robbed?
That I should have been there?
That I could have saved him?
That her death is my fault?
That I am not a good mother?
That I was not a good husband?
That I will never be happy again?
That there will always be a great, big hole?
Or is there another way of looking at life? At my life? At my story?
Can a miracle occur? Can I change my perception about what happened?
So, when you pray. If you pray. Consider praying for that.
For a miracle. For a change in perception.
But only if you want to make peace with life. Your life.
And only of you want to heal.
And only if you want to learn how to live a full, joy-filled life with the death of your beloved.
Pray for a change in perception. Yours.
And only if you want to learn how to live a full, joy-filled life with the death of your beloved.
Pray for a change in perception. Yours.
If my NEW WAY of "doing grief" resonates with you, I'd love to work with you one-on-one. If you are in the Rockford, Illinois area we can do that in person, otherwise, I am having great success working with people all over the country via Skype or FaceTime. Email me at tomzuba@aol.com if you would like to take the next step on your grief journey and we can schedule a session.
Hello TeaDDlsFxH,Thank you for leaving a cmoment of such encouragement! It seems you have God’s love in your heart. One thing we should always is ask God in the midst of our trials is, What are You trying to teach me God? He is trying to help us to grow in Him, in our relationship with Him, and in our lives. Charles Stanley had actually just taught ten wise reactions to trials that come. It is never God’s will for us to hurt. But as a wise Father, He knows how to get our attention and get us to listen to Him, so that He can bless us, help us, and so we can walk in His will. God is such a loving Father. Our enemy tries to make us believe that God is not there, but God is a hard worker, and He is always working things for our good just as Romans 8:28 promises. Good luck to you and the person in whom you were replying to. I will pray for you both. May God bless each of you who have requested prayers!
I have really enjoyed this change in perception concept. I am going to ponder this as a different way of thinking.