I was still a child, Target shoes and all.  Sure, I had heard of miracles.  Thought I believed in them too.  Throughout my early years of faith, I prayed for miracles.  Childlike prayers–“God, if you get me off this roller coaster alive, I swear I’ll never swear again.”  I didn’t know real sacrifice.

Yet, when I’m finally tested to give up something good, this love, I wrestled.  I fought.  I held on to my silly shoes (to this day) as some defiance towards God.  As if I showed Him, “I’ll obey…BUT.”  Even now, I hate surrender.  Therefore, I excuse myself, like many of us, to say “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t need to.”  Says who?  Me?  Who am I to tell God what He can do, how He can do it and when?  Have I learned nothing from those who have gone before me throughout Scripture?  Can I rebuke God?

In my childish way, I kicked, I pouted, I cried.  I wore myself out.  Slumping down in my corner with exhaustion, I gave in to my battle with God.  I look over those prayers, over seven years ago, and I see that my heart wanted God.  I wanted what was right.  But I fought it.  I didn’t want to give into what was right.  I wanted both–my way–and His.  Unfortunately, many days, my way is what comes first.

I remember challenging God, asking that if this relationship would end that He would bring this man love again.  I knew it would be only a miracle to open that door to what God had planned.

It was.  Almost four years later, he remarried his wife.  I look back now, not in pain, but in true joy.  Knowing that God showed me then, anything is possible.