You are a miracle!
When I was 8 or 9, my newborn sister went into the hospital. I don’t remember the details. I don’t remember ever visiting her there. I don’t even remember what was diagnosed. What I do remember is seeing my mother cry for the first time. She and my father stood in a corner of the living room — her shoulders hunched over as she shed close-to silent tears; his arms around her — trying to console. And I vaguely remember one of them telling me that Lorri was sick.
I wonder now what that was like then — for them. A sick child. Nothing they could do. Her fate and care now in the hands of others. Too many questions. Too many fears. Too many hopes hanging in the balance.
I can imagine they would have done anything remotely possible to have her back. I can imagine that their desperation would have driven them to cling to the smallest of options. And I am certain that they prayed — asking for her healing, longing for a miracle.
There’s an ancient story told of a father and his daughter. She was only 12 years old and dying. Desperate, the father went in search of a healer he’d heard rumor of, then begged him to come back to his home and heal his girl. As they set out together, messengers arrived saying, “Don’t bother the teacher any longer; she has already died.” The healer paid no attention, saying, “Don’t be afraid, only believe.”
When they arrived at the man’s home, there was nothing but confusion and wailing. Again the healer spoke: “The child is not dead — she is only sleeping.” When people started making fun of him, jeering at what he’d said, he sent them all away and went into her room — along with three of his disciples and her mother and father. He took her by the hand and said, ““Little girl, get up!” She got up at once and started walking around.
I imagine her skipping out of her room and into the crowd of people, all smiles, oblivious to both their shock and overwhelming joy. She probably asked for a snack and then wanted to go play with her friends. Just like that — all was as it should be.
Often, when stories like these are told, we focus on the miracle some, but far more, the miracle worker. And though that is worthwhile, to be sure, I think Jairus’ Daughter calls us to far more.
She invites us to see and acknowledge her as part of our own ancestral lineage — the powerful line of women from whom we descend. (That’s miracle in and of itself, yes?) Now what might we focus on in her story? Now what will we see? Now what will we hear? Mmmm. A lot!
She was a living, breathing miracle. From the age of 12 and for the rest of her life, this would have been her identity — the way in which she was known by others, the way in which her parents would have seen her, what would have been whispered about her as she walked down the street, grew, lived her life. In some ways, we might guess this was a burden to bear:
- If you are a miracle, then others expect much of you; surely you will do, must do, great things.
- If you are a miracle, then an average life will not suffice.
- If you are a miracle, your life is under a microscope — everything watched, wondered about, and measured by some standard of anticipated significance.
What if she had a different perspective? What if being a miracle was what opened her up to a life of possibility and joy and expanse? And what if that’s exactly what she offers you and me today?
Jairus’ Daughter invites you to see yourself as the miracle you are!
I know. It’s a lot to take in. A lot to consider. But let’s go with it for a minute or two…
What if you believed that you are a miracle?
What’s on your list? (I’d encourage you to open up your journal or a blank Google Doc and let yourself write. Just imagine. Dream big. Dig deep. Ask yourself: If I believed I was a miracle, I would…
Every answer that shows up is your wisdom speaking, you know — your desire, your heart, your longing, your truth. And you can trust it. ‘Promise.
This way of seeing yourself is hardly a simple thing, or one-and-done. It’s an ongoing choice, a deliberate pursuit, a discipline and sacred practice. And all of this is always strengthened and supported when we are in community with other women who are committed to the same.
SOVEREIGNTY is my live, 9-week program that invites all of this and then some. Hearing and trusting your wisdom. Acknowledging your agency. Stepping forward in courage. Holding on to hope. And every bit of this is miracle, to be sure. Every bit of this is you — at your truest.
I’d be honored if you’d join me. Powerful content. Beautiful conversation. Amazing community. Sovereignty, to be sure. And yes, miracles along the way.
Learn more: https://www.ronnadetrick.com/sovereignty