I'm not sure when or how roses became connected with the celebration of the women who have been blessed with children...but each year...without fail...they are everywhere.  Restaurants hand them out to women who are being rewarded for the 364 days of homemade meals with a champagne brunch.  Churches give them to children to deliver to their mothers as they sit in pews on this Sunday holiday. Several years ago I was handed a rose and a glass of bubbly as I shopped in Napa Style prior to a reservation at Botega.  I felt like such a fraud as I was already a couple of years into our quest to become parents...but boy did I need that glass of bubbly with all of the families surrounding me on that afternoon in Yountville.

And then, I stopped attending church on Mother's Day.  It was just too much and I didn't trust myself to sit there without bitterness and resentment towards all of the mothers who were surrounded by homemade Sunday school pictures and those STUPID ROSES.  So precious with their intent...yet even without thorns, the pain in my heart from the absence of my own rose was more than I could handle.  It felt as though I was invisible, forgotten,  and not worthy of that same blessing.

But you know what?  A miracle has happened.

Most of the time we only hear about the visible miracles...the things that astound us and increase our faith.  The child who was born deaf and can now hear, the adult with chronic pain that has disappeared, the family who was about to lose their home and wins the lottery, the barren woman who is now pregnant.  But what about the invisible miracles?

How do I tell the world that I have been healed?  How do I communicate that I feel more alive than ever before?  If there was a baby growing in my belly then the world with instantly be cognizant of the miracle...or if we were to step off of a plane with our little boy in our arms, it would be unmistakable.  Part of the miracle that has occurred within me over the last year is that finally, for the first time, I am okay with whatever future has been predestined for me.  I still hope and pray that it will include a family...but I'm okay if it doesn't.

What if my barrenness is the hunger that I needed to fight to make sure that other families around the world stay together instead of being ripped apart because of poverty and illness? What if my barrenness helps me to support and encourage other women who are facing the same pain?  What if my barrenness keeps me focused on my Savior as the only source of hope for all of my time here on earth?  All of these things are nothing short of miracles...

I won't stop fighting to complete our adoption...but I will trust in my Savior if He blesses us with a family and I will trust in my Savior if He blesses us as a family of two for our time here on earth.

This year...I will be at church on Mother's Day.  This year...the roses will remind me of the miracle that has occurred within me.