Your mommy and I have been talking about miracles lately. For me, miracles have always existed. They are ephemeral things like a beautiful sunrise, the laughter of children, the emergence of a butterfly from a chrysalis, or the birth of a baby. I have never been witness to any of the miracles that could be considered "biblical" -- no raising from the dead, no water into wine, no walking on water. I'm not really sure why these kinds of miracles seem to have been isolated to the first century, but I can no longer say that I have not witnessed a miracle. Your brother was born. That was a miracle by my old definition. But the fact that you have made it this far with an extra chromosome in every cell in your body is a whole different class of miracle to me. And when you come out to see me, and I get to spend however much time I get to spend with you, that, too, will be a miracle. Now, don't think that I do not hope and pray for you to come out whole and without disability. I do, every day. Our preacher, Bob, told us that people have it all wrong when they refer to prayer. They think of prayer as a basic, easy thing to do, without much to it. He says that when we say, "I'm praying for you," that's really like saying, "Don't you worry, I'm bringing out the big guns now." So, know that you've got the big guns of everyone that loves you fighting for you. Know that everyone will love you just the same, no matter what. And know that every day that you are with us is a miracle to me (by my new definition).
Love and hugs,
Daddy
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