I know that I know

How do I know?

I was there. I watched a woman, hunched over in pain, make her way to the front of church with her cane to receive prayer, and then leave that same cane at the front, arms raised, head held high, WALK down the isle out of church.

How do I know? Because I was there.

I was there in Verado tonight, at Main Squeeze open mic night. Listening to the sounds of the pneumatics. I was there when a man ran in, yelling for 911, saying a kid had just been hit by a car. I was there when Ethan Dailey was laid on the sidewalk bench. I was there when his mother was on her knees weeping, when his father was by his side, telling him it would be alright. There watching the police, then the firefighters, then the ambulance, then the helicopter, come for the broken and bruised boy. I was there, driving the father to the hospital, as the mother took flight with Ethan. There talking with Josh, him: calm, peaceful, strong. "I know it's going to be alright", he says. There in the hospital emergency room with the two brothers to Christy, Kyle and Aaron, Joshs' brother Aaron, my wife and I, praying for Ethan, for healing for strength.
I was there when Christy came down to tell us the news. Broken collar bone, broken hand, fractured skull, bleeding in the brain. The nero-surgeon was on his way to look at the cat scan. I was there in the parking lot when Mel got the call from Josh, Ethan is okay, he is going to be okay. I was there when he told us the doctors where wrong about their assessment. No fracture, no bleeding, collar bone with a slight fracture, and his hand was still waiting for x-rays. There, to witness again, a miracle.

How do I know? Why do I believe? Because I have seen. Seen the broken woman asking for healing, and the broken child, in desperate need of a miracle.

I know that I know.