On Monday Sheba took a huge step of faith and admitted a man who was very very sick.
So sick that his pulse could basically not be felt.
Over the last 3 days this man has been nursed back into life. His vomitting and diarrhoea have stopped. He has started eating. He is able to sit up. He went outside for a walk. He shaved off his beard. A new man.
On the outside at least.
Today he walked across the road. To smoke a bidi. His cough and weakness was not enough to keep him from getting his bit.
As he became more alive we realised that he was angry. Very angry.
When it came time to leave, he was a small sour and confused man. His main expression was regret that he had come. "I was told it would be free" he grumbled after his wife paid the small hospitalisation fee we asked from them. "I was this way before - I am not better."
Our miracle walked out the door followed by his caring wife. "He is hot in the head" she apologised on behalf her husband.
Miracles take place. Even now. Today.
But how many times the recipients of the miraculous do not recognise them! How many times it has been me walking out surlyly - when actually my heart should have been filled - with gratitude.