“Out of difficulties grow miracles.” ~Jean dela Bruyere
The image in my mind is vivid, like an old photograph etched into my brain, where every facet is clearly discernible.
It was a frigid, blustery December night, right before my son’s seventh birthday. The heating unit had gone on the blitz, and the house was so freezing it seemed as though ice crystals would form on the inside of our windows.
Grabbing as many blankets as possible, I wanted to envelope my son with covers, hoping he would feel safe and warm in the cocoon. Time for bed, I reassured him that all would be fine despite the bitter cold, and to have sweet dreams of sweltering, sunny summer.
He then uttered a sound that I’ll never forget: “Da-ye.”
I screamed for my wife, needing a witness to convince me that the frosty air had not played tricks on my brain or ears. She ran upstairs in great haste, anticipating some dire emergency that required her immediate attention.
I relayed what had just transpired. One minute later, my son uttered the sweet sound again, “Da-ye.”
My wife started crying—and not because she wanted his first word to be “Mom” or some close variation.
Tears cascaded down her face because we were told ou…