One of those a lot of moms can relate to—-baby monitor on, listening for the coughs and moans, watching the tossing and turning. Glass of wine in hand (maybe that’s just me).

I hate it when he’s sick. It’s the most helpless feeling. I’ve given him the prescribed amount of medicine, and still, he’s miserable, which makes me feel miserable. I can’t help it. I want to fix it for him—-and selfishly, for me too.

It’s hard being on my own when he’s sick. I know I can call his dad, and my parents, but there’s nothing they could do either. It gives me so much empathy for single moms who have no one to reach out to during the long nights, or the days that follow.

And then I read things like this and I get perspective. You should read Joanna’s whole story, it is inspiring. Not sure how she’s doing it, but she is.

I read a book this week that I can’t get out of my mind: Holy Ghost Girl, a memoir by Donna M. Johnson. It is the story of a girl who grew up in the Pentecostal tent revival movement. Her mother was the organist, and mistress, of a well-known traveling preacher. Donna was essentially abandoned for “the call”. I don’t know how she survived the insanity, hypocrisy and confusion, but she did. And she would even say that some of the miracles she witnessed were real, though there were more than enough charades to make her throw in the towel on any kind of spirituality for the rest of her life.

The connection between all of this? I don’t know—maybe that we are made of stronger stuff than we know. Or maybe it’s given to us at just the right time. From sick babies to cancer to insane families, somehow light still manages to get through. If that’s not miraculous, I don’t know what is.