The Day Miracles Walked Through the Door

Months passed. Life returned to routine. But sometimes, late at night, I heard him repeating his prayer:
— “Please give me strength. Please let me walk.”

Then came the first sign. One morning, gripping his wheelchair, he lifted himself. His legs wavered… and for a single heartbeat, he stood. Then fell. Yet his eyes shone.
— “See, Dad? The angel listened.”

And months later, it happened. On a quiet Saturday: Step. Step. Step. He was walking—shaky, unsteady, slow—but walking.
— “Dad… I told the angel. And he listened.”

I cannot fully explain it. Perhaps hidden therapy, perhaps sheer willpower… or perhaps something greater.

That day, he didn’t just take his first steps. He taught me to believe again. Dreams, even impossible ones, can shape reality. Hope, held tightly, can move mountains—or at least make a little boy stand. Faith isn’t waiting—it’s daring to whisper your heart and trust someone is listening.

Every time I see him walking now, I remember the stone angel. And the boy who prayed beneath its wings. Because that prayer changed everything.