UMC20250720 - The Ordinary Miracle¶
My baby girl has arrived! It’s still surreal. I keep waiting for the feeling to settle in—that this isn’t just a moment, but a whole new life unfolding.
One unexpected reflection I’ve had is just how ordinary her birth felt. I had expected fireworks. You know—movie-magic, slow-motion, tears-streaming-down-the-face kind of stuff. I have heard so many people say things like, “My life changed forever in that moment,” or “When she arrived, I didn’t know I could love another human being so much.”
And maybe that’s true for them. But for me? It was quieter. Less dramatic. The hospital was bright and sterile (as it should be). There were no friends or family cheering us on. Just a surgical team and the quiet tension of a caesarean operation. And when she arrived, there were surgical tools, checks, and procedures. No swelling music. Just life… beginning.
Don’t get me wrong—there have been special moments since her birth. The first time she grabbed my finger. The noises she makes when she is lying on my chest. I can feel something slowly blooming. But if I’m honest, it’s a growing, not an exploding.
It's made me reflect on how we think about our relationship with God and the internalised expectations that we bring into our quite times of prayer or reading of scripture. But often, it’s just… ordinary. Quiet. Slow.
Maybe faith, like fatherhood, is less about fireworks and more about presence. Less about dramatic feelings and more about showing up, day by day, with an open heart.
Because sometimes, the most sacred things in life arrive not with a bang—but with a breath.
Love, Cliff