It’s 1:30 a.m. on Labor Day and I’m asleep in the car in Phippsburg. The whole family is here waiting on the birth of a new grandson and all the comfortable places in the house are taken. The sound of the rain of the roof of the Explorer has lulled me into as peaceful a sleep as you can get in a car. The dome light comes on and Kathy announces, “He’s here!”

My grandson, Charles Achilles William Packard, has been born at Mid-Coast Medical Center in Brunswick. We’ve all been waiting for many hours and it’s taken its toll, but mom has been working hard all this time, so what difference does it make that I’ve been sleeping in a car.

I’m quiet on the drive to the hospital, wondering what my new grandson looks like, how his mom is doing and a million other thoughts. Despite the hour, we’re warmly welcomed by hospital staff and get to meet Charlie for the first time. Mom is groggy from many hours of labor. Dad is trying to be cool when he is excited beyond comprehension. (I suppose he gets that from me.) After a nice visit with the new family, we return to Union in the wee hours of the morning. It’s a miracle.

Yes. I said it. The birth of a child is a miracle. I guess I felt it when Jesse was born, and we weren’t able to be in Virginia when Sierra was born, but this morning I witnessed a miracle.

The media has a section called “Announcements.” There are deaths, births, engagements and marriages announced under that heading. I think there should be a new heading called “Miracles” that just lists births.

Think about this; Marriages and engagements can happen more than once. We don’t hope for that, but it’s true. Death is inevitable (nobody gets out alive). Births are once a lifetime occurances.

On the drive back from Brunswick, I got to thinking about the future of Charlie. He had only been in this world for a short time, but his possibilities were endless. Would he be a president? A governor? A community leader? A wonderful dad and model for his children? Who knows? Right now, he’s a small bundle of joy on his mother’s lap with the whole world at his doorstep. Whatever he wants, he’s going to have to work for it, but whatever he’s destined for is within his reach. It’s all up to him.

Throughout this whole process, I know that I have come across as not as interested or excited as some may have expected. It’s just me. We all express our feelings in different ways. I love my children to death. They often don’t see that because of what I say and how I act, but I feel the need to push them and show them that they are capable of way more than they believe they are.

I feel the same about my grandchildren. If I don’t challenge them and their parents, who will?

Let’s close with some thoughts about miracles. I said earlier that I believe births should have a separate listing in media notifications. Miracles is the title that I advocate for. I’m on a campaign. Join me and let’s start with the local publications, take it to the state and then the whole country.

Births will have their own separate section, called “Miracles.” When two people create a new life, that is nothing short of a miracle in my book. It’s not always perfect. I get that. I have a granddaughter who was rescued from an awful situation, but she’s still a miracle and has become a beautiful young lady.

What’s more of a miracle is that a family came along and raised her as their own.

Miracles happen all around us, but we often fail to recognize them. It would be better for everybody if they took the time to look around and marvel at the miracles in their lives.