After nearly five years as a teacher, there aren't very many "firsts" left for me. But recently I found myself in the midst of quite a "first": the mother of one of my students claimed he had been miraculously cured of his deafness.
"Sean" is a fourth grader who is profoundly deaf in both ears. He wears a cochlear implant and does quite well with it (without it, he cannot hear ANY speech sounds). He is quite intelligible, bright, and friendly.
Three weeks ago, he took off his cochlear implant and declared loudly (in slightly less intelligible speech) that he could hear and he didn't need it anymore. Thinking he was just messing around, I pointed for him to put it back on and then explained that the doctor/audiologist said he must wear it to hear. He grinned sheepishly and put it back on.
Later that day, my colleague told me that she had run into his mother at church and she had told her that Sean had been miraculously healed over spring break!
Now. I believe God still does miracles. But I also believe that miracles are not the usual way that He reveals himself. So over the next few days, every time Sean had his cochlear implant off (changing batteries, or what have you), we would loudly shout his name from varying distances.
Since Sean was obediently wearing his implant at school every day, I forgot all about the issue and went on with life.
Until Friday. Friday, his mother was at school to pick Sean up and we had a conversation in the stairwell. She told me that Sean had something to tell me. He told me that he had misplaced something and then we had the ODDEST conversation with him repeating himself and never directly answering my questions.
Then his mom turned to me after he had walked away and asked me, beaming: "Did you notice anything about Sean? He had that whole conversation with you without his implant on! He's been healed! We've had a miracle!"
I was at such a loss, I think all I managed was "Oh!". Thankfully, I had to give my attention to my other students so I was off the hook.
About twenty minutes later when the final bell had rung, she came into my classroom to expand further on this miracle. Something about a prophecy and three days and some prayer. I was quiet for a minute and she said: "You look amazed!", to which I replied: "This is an amazing situation!"
I put on my warmest smile and asked as tactfully as I could if the audiologist had confirmed his new hearing. Her response? "God doesn't need an audiologist to confirm his miracles!"
True. Since there was nothing appropriate left for me to say I quickly changed the subject, and Mom left as happy as she was when she came in.
I'm not a parent, and I'm obviously not a parent of a child with special needs. But I can understand wanting your child to be healed. I don't know how long Mom is going to hold on to this miracle, but I do know it's not my place to contradict her hope.