Do you Believe in Miracles? A story about Wholeness.

Question: Do you believe in miracles?

I keep a collection of rosary beads around my home.

They belonged to my grandmother, a deeply religious woman I barely knew, yet somehow feel connected to through these small, sacred objects. I hang them on the doorknobs in my house. A quiet blessing. A reminder to walk with faith.

A few weeks ago, my partner and I were heading out the front door. As the door opened, the rosary caught and snapped clean in two. A few beads scattered across the floor. We both froze.

It felt symbolic in a way I couldn’t quite name yet.

I picked up the pieces and placed them on my kitchen table. I knew restringing them would require patience. And honestly, I didn’t feel ready. So they sat there for two days.

Broken. Unfixed. Waiting.

When I finally felt ready to mend them, I walked over to the table and picked them up. And they were whole. Completely intact. Back in one piece. Only a single bead remained on the table.

We stood there staring at it. I hadn’t fixed it. Neither had Stephen. No one else had touched it. Yet it was restored.

You can interpret that however you’d like. Here’s what I know: In a moment that could’ve felt like loss, we witnessed something I can only describe as grace.

I’ve been contemplating the symbolic meaning of it, and here’s a few thoughts I’d like to share.

1. Not everything broken requires fixing.

Sometimes we rush to repair what feels shattered…relationships, plans, identities, even ourselves. But some things ask for space, not control. The rosary sat untouched for two days. I didn’t push. I didn’t strain. I simply waited until I felt ready.

What if some healing happens when we stop gripping so tightly?

2. Miracles often reveal themselves in stillness.

If I had immediately tried to fix it, I never would have witnessed what happened. There are moments in life when we are invited to pause, not because we’re powerless, but because awareness requires presence.

Miracles don’t always arrive with thunder. Sometimes they sit quietly on the kitchen table.

3. Even when something is restored, one bead may remain.

That single bead left behind meant something to me. Wholeness doesn’t always mean “exactly as before.”

Growth can leave evidence. Healing can leave wisdom. Restoration can leave a reminder.

4. Look for miracles, especially when life feels heavy.

When things feel hard, we tend to look for proof that life is against us.

What if we also looked for evidence that life is for us? Not blind optimism. Not denial. But awareness. I don’t believe miracles are always about suspending the laws of nature. Sometimes they’re about noticing what we would have otherwise overlooked.Sometimes they’re about meaning. Sometimes they’re about faith, in something bigger, or simply in the unfolding of our lives.

The rosary breaking could have been an accident. The rosary restoring could have been… something else. What matters most to me is this:

In a moment that could have felt like loss, I witnessed wholeness. And that stirred something in me.

This week, I invite you to ask yourself:

• What small miracle might I be overlooking?

• What would shift if I expected grace instead of bracing for collapse?

• Where is something coming together in my life?

With Awareness & Miracles,

Adela