I believe in miracles. Little signs that, on the outside, don’t appear to mean much, but on the inside, mean more than words can tell. Small events that remind you that God is with you.

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     When I was 10, my grandma’s house burned down. Luckily, no one got seriously hurt, but the house was absolutely ruined. The roof was caving in, everything inside was completely burned, the thick scent of smoke consumed you the second you got within ten feet of the house.
It was only a matter of time before it would crumble under the unstable support beams and destroy the rest of the items inside. My family  decided they wanted to try to save as much stuff and capture as many pictures of the house before it had to come down.

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     Since I was still young, I didn’t get to have the best look around. I walked through the downstairs and that was pretty much it, so I can’t say I remember much of the details. My mom however, took a video camera in and documented every square inch of the house so that we
could look back and remember. My mom went through and tried to find anything that was able to be salvaged through the ruins. Not much was able to be recovered, but there was a good deal of stuff that had minor damage that just had to be cleaned up. My mom was also on the hunt for a small cross that we had gotten my grandmother for her birthday. It was a small wooden cross, about 6 inches tall. We had gotten it from a group of people from Bethlehem that came to our church selling hand carved crosses and other statues made with wood from Bethlehem. My grandmother had put it on a nightstand next to her telephone. My mom looked for it the first day but couldn’t find it. She assumed it burned with everything else, considering it was made from wood and everything around it was completely destroyed. She gave up looking for it and continued searching for anything else that could be saved.

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     I live about four hours away from my grandma, so when we had to leave, we assumed that it would be the last time we would see her house before it got torn down. My mom took the camera through one more time to get the last pieces of documentation. She went into my grandma’s room and began filming what was left. Suddenly, a strange item popped out to her. The cross that had seemingly disappeared was sitting on the nightstand right where my grandma had left it. My mom was shocked and picked up the cross to see how damaged it was but it was completely intact. There was a tiny bit of ash on it, but once we cleaned it off, it looked brand new and completely untouched from any flame. It seemed impossible for it to stay in such perfect condition. I mean, the telephone that sat next to it was melted beyond recognition. What happened to that cross seemed physically impossible. For it to be completely engulfed in flames and still be saved is something of a miracle. It reminded my family to remember that God was with us, even when my grandma had just lost everything, and right before Christmas for that matter. No matter what happens to us in life, these small miracles are here to remind us that we always have someone to watch over and protect us. This, I believe.

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