December 12. Advent people are people in search of a miracle. Before the first Christmas, the Jews waited expectantly for the promised Messiah, uncertain of when or how He would come—so uncertain that most of them missed Him altogether.

For us modern day Advent people, our waiting is almost commemorative because we already know the end of the story…the birth of the babe, the life of the perfect man, the death of our Jesus, the resurrection of our Savior. We try to make the waiting meaningful by seeking God more deeply during Advent, serving more willingly, giving more generously, but even these efforts only allow us to glimpse a shadow of the truly desperate search for a miracle.

Unless…we are anticipating our own miracle.

I have a friend who is waiting for a miracle. Her daughter is battling cancer, and the battle is grueling and painful and agonizing to her mother’s heart. Tonight as I pray for her, I also remember. I remember waiting for my own miracle. I remember spending every holiday one year in the hospital. I remember being expectant and hopeful—and desperate.

What does a mother waiting for a miracle look like? The Bible captures it perfectly in the story of Hannah. She desperately wanted a son, but her womb was closed and to make matters worse, her rival provoked her mercilessly year after year. “[Hannah] was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly.” (1 Samuel 1:10, ESV) She made a vow to God that if she had a son, she would give him to the Lord “all the days of his life.

“As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard.” (v. 13) This led Eli, the priest, to think Hannah was drunk. She corrected him, saying, “No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord.” (v. 15)

Hannah gets her miracle. Her son, Samuel, was born soon after this encounter with Eli. And she kept her vow. When she had weaned her son, she brought him to the house of the Lord and gave him to Eli, saying, “For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him. Therefore I have lent him to the Lord. As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord.” (v. 27-28)

Samuel served in the temple with Eli and was eventually called by God to be a prophet. Hannah went on to have three more sons and two daughters.

Not all mothers waiting for miracles get what they hope for. Sometimes the babies never make it out of the womb. Or they come without breath. Or wounded. Or they arrive perfect but suffer from the injuries and disease that plague our fallen world. Sometimes healings come, but not on earth. And sometimes they come on earth, but at great cost.

What is a mother waiting for a miracle to do? The only thing she can do. Pray and weep and pour out her soul before the Lord. And then accept that the miracle actually came the moment she became a mother. When her baby was tiny and microscopic and she didn’t even know he or she existed. The miracle is life. From that moment forward, all a mother can do is “give [her child] to the Lord all the days of his life,” however short or long, or joy-filled or gut-wrenching those days may be. “As long as [her child] lives, he is lent to the Lord.”

People waiting for miracles have the truest perspective on Advent of anyone. They possess razor-sharp vision of the value of life and of what it means to be desperate for a Savior. We who are searching for a deeper perspective of Advent would do well to spend time praying for, serving, and listening to the people around us who are waiting for miracles. And to remember Your faithfulness during our own waiting. We search for you at Christmas in brightly wrapped packages and shiny lights and colored tinsel. But we find you beside hospital bedsides—in mothers’ pleading tears, siblings’ faithful prayers, and fathers’ feelings of helplessness—in the unexpected places You have always dwelled—like in mangers and and on crosses and in the hearts of desperate people.

Lord, I join my friend Stacie in pleading for Berkleigh’s little body to fight the cancer that has invaded it. I beg You to ease her pain and heal her completely. I pray supernatural strength for her family as they endure this storm that keeps pummeling them. Thank You for the miracle of Berkleigh’s life that has belonged to you from the beginning. Thank You that the work of Your Son, whose birth we are about to celebrate, means that Berkleigh’s victory is already assured. We love and trust You, Lord. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” (Psalm 62:8, ESV)