A Course in Miracles

Reading Michelle O'Neil's fabulous blog, Full Soul Ahead, this morning, I was reminded of one of my all-time favorite quotes from The Boy (now 24 years old).

When he was about four, The Boy stayed all night with a friend while we celebrated our July 1 wedding anniversary. He came home filled with enthusiasm for Matthew's "Nintendo Entertainment System," and announced that Santa would be bringing him one.

The Boy had slight problems pronouncing certain kinds of words (repeated ear infections, tubes, speech delays--you know the drill), and I didn't know what he was saying at first. When I found out what he was saying and what it was, I assured him that no, Santa would not be bringing electronic death rays into our house.

This went on for months. The Boy was adamant that he would get a Nintendo Entertainment System. I was adamant that he would not.

Then came the day, 5 days before Christmas, when he was telling me once again how excited he was about the coming gift from Santa.

Me: Santa won't bring Nintendo because I don't want you to have it. Santa doesn't bring toys Moms don't want little boys to have.

The Boy: Oh, he will, Mom. He really will. Because I truly believe. And when you truly believe, you can get a miracle.

Me: *&^%

As soon as he laid down for a nap, I launched into the Great Hunt for a Nintendo. Brand new on the market, it was the hottest of hot gifts that year, and there were none to be had. Not anywhere in the greater Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area. I know this. I called every possible store.

Not willing to dash his dreams but leaving for my folks house in Missouri in the morning, I got a map, pinpointed towns along the road between Mpls and my home town and called all those stores.

Still no Nintendo.

Christmas Eve. My brother was driving down from Des Moines, following a different route than we had taken. More maps. More phone calls.

Eureka! A Nintendo Entertainment system at a Wal-Mart in a tiny town only 15 miles out of my brother's way. The lovely clerk agreed to let me pay for it by credit card over the phone (unheard of in those days) and set it aside for my brother to pick up. He arrived 10 minutes before the store closed, scooped up our treasure, and brought it home, strapped to the top of his tiny, overfilled car like a trophy deer or something.

Scene: Grandma's house. Christmas morning chaos. The Boy beaming as he spots Mario running across the TV screen sitting smack in the middle of the living room floor.

The Boy: He brought it! He brought it! See, Mom, I knew I'd get my miracle.

Me: (silently) After The Wasband's cancer, after the sterility-inducing radiation treatments, after the torturous infertility treatments, artificial insemination, miscarriages, and years of waiting on adoption lists, I got my miracle, too.

When you truly believe, you can get a miracle.