13 Pavements

Monday, September 26, 2011


The other day a dear family friend, Virginia, sent a package to us.  In it was a bunny for Liv and a tiny frame with the words "Expect a Miracle" printed on a piece of paper.  It was a gift Virginia had been given 25 years ago when her own daughter was diagnosed with cancer and has now passed it onto me.  She enclosed a card in which she wrote, "Miracles happen every day.  Sometimes differently than we expect."

There is a subtle difference between big miracles and important miracles.  While the big miracles are welcomed, life altering, and are strongly desired and hoped for, the important miracles are what carry us, what make our burdens lighter, what make the unbearable bearable.  I keep finding myself looking for the big miracles instead of the most important ones, and that is a sad and frustrating way to look at and live life.  Instead of seeing all the good that is actually happening, you focus only on what isn't happening or what hasn't happened yet.  

It's been difficult to force myself to have this mindset, but today I think I figured out perhaps the most important miracle in all of this:  Olivia's happiness.    She is so happy, always so happy.  Life, just by itself, thrills her.  Every day there is at least a dozen different things that tickle her and fill her with genuine glee. Yesterday morning when I went to get her out of bed, she was so excited to see me that before she even sat up, she clapped her hands and said, "Happy?"  I laughed and we sang a few pre-breakfast rounds of If You're Happy and You Know It.

How much heavier would this cancer burden be if I had a sad child?  I honestly can't imagine.

Her happy is my happy.

Tomorrow we meet with the oncologist to determine and finalize her treatment plan.  Say extra prayers for her and, of course, expect a miracle.  Because really, why shouldn't we?


  1. Beautifully said. Virginia has the outlook everyone needs to have.

  2. I have no words. That is beautiful, sis. I love you.

  3. Heard about your blog through Julie McGrath (Kassandra's mom). I'm not sure if you remember me but my Emelia was in the Play-2-learn class with Olivia last year. Your sweet girl is in our prayers. May you find your strength in the Lord. He will carry you through.