Do miracles really happen?

Yesterday I watched a really wonderful movie called "Miracles from heaven". It is based on a true incident where a girl gets miraculously cured of an incurable disease after near death experience. Something unbelievable happened with that family. Their story is meant to restore faith and hope. In the movie, it was shown that people were not ready to believe the family and assumed it to be a publicity stunt, but then someone described to the audience, the pain which that girl went through and how she helped his daughter to have faith in her last days.

Miracles are hard to believe. At times people shy away from telling the incident to the world, because they know that even they wouldn't have believed it in the first place, had it not been their own experience. I don't know what is the secret formula or what makes miracles happen, but they do happen. Just like it happened to me.

I had twisted my ankle while I playing a jumping jack in the trampoline park. It brought forth my chronic injury in the worst form. I had started limping but was under the impression that this limp and pain will go away with time, like always. One week passed, the pain reduced but the limp persisted. I thought maybe physiotherapy would fix it, just like last time. I religiously followed my physio routine, hoping to fix my limp. Even after a week of physio, the limp didn't seem to go. Although the pain had subsided. I was scared like hell and wondered when will this limp go, what can be done to fix it. The fear was eating me up, but I couldn't discuss my fear with anyone, because I was always taunted that this was a result of my 'adventures'. I was afraid to explain the situation to my parents. A month had passed, people had started pitying me and I had started to live with the condition. It was heart wrecking to decide to curb down my adventures. Before stepping into any plan I had to put my foot first.

My friends planned a trip to an offbeat destination and I agreed to go when I was sure that we were not going to do any strenuous activity. The place was breathtakingly beautiful. It was after reaching there we discovered that the place was bestowed with the highest abode of Lord Shiva and to reach the temple we had to trek for 2.5 km. It was a doable distance, but I took more than my usual time to agree to it. My decision was a mixture of both love for Lord Shiva, plus FOMO. I was the least prepared individual for the trek at that time, I only had floaters and no shoes. I failed to provide the only required thing for my foot at the dire time, a firm support. Next morning everyone was sceptical when they saw me tying crepe bandage around my foot. They had no idea that more than them, I needed to convince myself that I could do it.

As expected I was the tortoise of the group. It was kind of my friends to stop occasionally and check my status. Little did they know that their concern was making me feel pathetic about myself. All this while, I kept doing a pep talk with myself and sending my message to Shiv Ji. I just prayed that I don't want to ever regret the journey which I was making to His abode. I was there for Him and He'll only take care of me. My disturbing thoughts left me only when I was mesmerized by the first idol which we saw on our way to the temple. It started to rain, but some kind strangers helped us with the raincoats. These signs were enough to convince me that He was there with us. Our feet nearly froze when we stepped into the temple premise, but the divinity of the place made it bearable. The rains had made it difficult for me to continue with the crepe bandage, so I took it off. After the blissful encounter with the God, we started descending. It was difficult to form a grip on the steep slope after the rain. That is when the pain returned, and it was shocking because I could feel it even with my cold numb feet. After a while, I lost my potential to form a firm grip and control my speed. I had to give in to the gravity. I went with the speed with which the force was pulling me, with least friction from my end. I remember one of my friend saying, "Go easy girl, you have an injured foot". I had turned my head to her and said, "I cannot control my speed anymore" while surpassing her. It felt like I was being driven by someone and I had to hop on the obstacles while moving consistently, just like any video game. This activity, to save myself had consumed me so much that I almost forgot about my pain. When in the evening someone asked me about my foot, it was then I realized that I wasn't limping anymore. I cannot explain that euphoria in words, all I can say is, I was blessed.