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Miracles are real


Miracles are real.

Except....we often think that a miracle has to be mind blowing, amazing, and almost magical for it to be real, for it to be noticed.

What is the definition of a miracle?

Miracle: a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.

But does this definition mean that a miracle is always something so surprising like a million dollars falling on our doorstep, or someone coming back to life, or all of our big dreams coming true?

Sometimes the miracle is a change that happens within yourself.

A change that happens within your heart.

A shift that alters the way that you view your life.

A miracle was placed onto my life.

No, a million dollars didn't fall on my doorstep.

No, all of my dreams have not yet come true which is of course pretty refreshing because if they had......then what would I have to strive for in the years and decades to come?

But my heart. Oh, my heart.

That's where my miracle lies.

My miracle is my change of heart.

My change in my daily thoughts and view on my tragedy and trauma.

When my first husband died by suicide I was so angry. I was so shattered. I thought I was unlovable, unworthy. I was angry at the sun for shining. I sat around thinking, "Why me? Why not her?" I dwelled on that thinking for a long time. I obsessed over the thoughts. I almost drowned in the anxiety, depression, and raging anger. I thought my life was over and would never be good again. I was angry. I was in the dark. I was plain old mad at life, at the universe, at myself, and at God.

And then a miracle happened.

No, it didn't happen overnight. No, it wasn't magical.

Yes, it took time and tons of effort on my part. It took me reading piles and piles of books on trauma, grief, and spirituality.

It took me talking with thousands of people from around the world who have experienced trauma and hearing their views.

It took me screaming out my anger from the top of a hill, a bluff, or anywhere out in the middle of nowhere.

It took me writing down my anger and crying for days on end.

My miracle came to me slowly, lovingly, and it took awhile before I realized that a miracle now lived in my heart.

My miracle is that my heart is changed, altered, different.

I am no longer angry. And yes, I was angry for years after his suicide.

I no longer think, "Why me?"

I now think, "Hey, God? Use me and my heart for the greatest good that I am possibly able to offer the world. Use my pain to spread love and healing for others. Show me how to use my life to be of service to others."

I no longer wish to die, to jump off the bluff, to never wake up.

I believe in LOVE again. I remarried in 2019 and my new story began. A new fairytale that my anger told me I would never find or deserve. My anger was wrong. My fairytale is very real.

I believe in God again.

I am content and at peace knowing that sometimes awful things happen with no rhyme or reason and acceptance is one of the greatest healers there is.

I am kinder to everyone I meet. I am less judgmental. I always try to think about a person's back story. I love people......broken, messy, loud, imperfect people. The people unapologetically being themselves and soaking up every ounce of life and laughter. I want to follow them into the sun.

My miracle is small.

My miracle is perfect.

It didn't come in a golden envelope into my mailbox.

It wasn't a loud announcement by God booming through the clouds for all to hear.

It was quiet and soft and it happened slowly.

And one day I woke up and realized that a miracle had been performed on my heart.

I no longer feel anger towards my tragedy. I no longer feel bitter or unworthy or unloved.

I take on the responsibility of sharing my story and my downfalls and my vulnerable heart so that others can feel brave to do so too.

Miracles are not always big and loud and magical.

Yes, they are performed by God. Only that energy of love has the power to change your heart. It's simply not something we can do all on our own.

I never asked for this miracle except? Maybe I did.

Maybe that's what I was doing all of those nights that I sat on the cold cement floor in my basement at three a.m.. It's what I was doing all of those times I stood on top of the bluff screaming, wailing, and saying, "Please, please someone help me. I'm hanging on by a thread. I can't fall into the dark abyss. I can't want to die. I can't jump to my death. I have to live. I want to live."

Maybe I did ask for this miracle through that grievers prayer.

Miracles are real. Never, ever give up hope. Never, ever cash in the life God gave you. A new story is out there waiting for you. You are a sunflower......RISE.

Love always, Nik



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