I was looking through Postsecret today, like I do every Sunday. I always end up coming across many secrets that make me laugh, or feel bad, and of course, chosen few that make me reflect on certain time-frames of my own life. This week's postcards were filled with pretty great things, and I ended up falling upon several I related to; this one especially. I've found that my life, each day, still seems just like every other day. I always feel as if I was anticipating a major event that was going to happen. Day in, and day out, I would hope and day dream of, in all honesty, a miracle.
But now, looking back on my progress I realize that the journey itself was the miracle. I've done and lived through so much, thinking back to as early as my memory serves me. I've lived through miracles, and I've learned things people would only dream of understanding. I'm happy with myself, and all that I've done. I'm happy for the direction my life is currently going. I'm happy that the miracle I thought I needed to spend all of my time dreaming about, was working indiscreetly in my favor all along.
Some brief things I remember of miracles in my life, were the people I've come to meet and know. If it weren't for miracles, I wouldn't have felt like I had fallen in love several times in the past years. If it weren't for miracles, I wouldn't know what a true best friend was, until the one's I have today had showed me through genuine actions. If it weren't for miracles, the lessons I know of up until today wouldn't mean nearly as much to me as they do now.
One memory in particular, I remember, happened last summer, at church camp in Colorado. That was back when Courtney still lived in Arizona, and I was still trying to figure out a lot of things. I remember distinctly, there was this boy there, who was probably several years older than me, who seemed... different from most. He would always carry around his guitar, playing various gospel songs, singing his heart out almost all of the time, and praying like there was no tomorrow. Especially under this massive, beautiful tree that was at the college we were staying at. Though he sounds like a wholesome, inspiring kid, he was actually nearly hated by almost everybody there. I understand now, that he wasn't the greatest kid, and that he made a lot of strange, and bad choices. But isn't that ironic? The people who made the efforts to go on a trip to learn about their savior, and how to feel loved by one another, pick such a "perfect" backdrop to discriminate someone else. I can honestly say, without fear of exaggeration, that Courtney and I were the only two people who became friends with him, nonetheless could stand being around him for more than 3 1/2 minutes. And I remember, that one day he was playing guitar out by the big tree, and a lot of people were around. He had set it down momentarily, and someone who was listening up in the tree had decided to jump down, not even taking a moment to acknowledge the fact that his feet were going to land right on this precious guitar, before his mind could realize his mistake. Immediately, the guitar went from one piece, to two. I remember someone telling me that the boy with the guitar teared up, and ran off somewhere no one even knew of. And all that the rest of the group did was laugh at him, while making fun of him. At this point, he was no where to be found. I later learned that he received that guitar as a gift from his mom, who he never gets to see much anymore. Funny thing is, once more and more people heard of the story, some either wrote it off, or some faked emotion for attention. I can tell you right now, that the pain I felt for this boy was definitely not fake. The more and more I analyzed the whole situation, the more I felt like crying my eyes out. And I definitely remember when all of this was going on, I had an amazing leader there help me out so incredibly much. I cried hard, and I prayed harder. And the minute I thought I lost hope, someone sent a message down that he was found, by one of our friends at the camp. It was a miracle, the way he had found him. He told us that he was walking everywhere, searching for this boy, and right before he lost hope himself, something told him to walk down this road, and that's where he saw the boy, all by his lonesome, but safe.
Now, this story could possibly have no meaning to you. I know it won't seem as much of a miracle to you, as it is to me. It probably never will, and that's okay. Miracles have happened in my life, that I am blessed to have experienced. I only hope that anyone else out there could have gotten the message as clear and so bluntly in the face as I have, and appreciate it, just like I've learned to.
The reason I remember that day so well, is because that's the day I felt as if I had proof that miracles do happen. Every. Single. Day.