My Miracle: Not Healing, but Helping

Many church members visited me, bringing meals as a gesture of their love and support. One person brought abalone porridge, and it was incredibly delicious. Alongside it was dongchimi, a cool, crisp radish water kimchi.

The contrast was pure perfection—the warm, nourishing porridge and the refreshing tang of dongchimi. For a brief moment, as I sat in that hospital bed, savoring each bite, all my worries faded away.

Some gently massaged my feet, praying fervently that I might feel their touch. Though I couldn’t, I was deeply moved by their love and sincerity.

If they ever read this, I want them to know: Thank you. I will never forget their kindness, their prayers, and the unwavering support they gave me during my most difficult days.

Yet, despite their heartfelt prayers, the miracle they hoped for never came. Even now, seven years later, my legs remain motionless and numb.

But that does not mean a miracle never happened.

Because I do not feel discouraged. Though I have become a paraplegic, though I have lost so much, I do not feel sad.

Instead, I have found a greater purpose.

I want to comfort those who are suffering, encourage the brokenhearted, and lift up those who feel defeated. I truly believe that only people can comfort one another, and I want to dedicate my life to that mission.

The burning desire within me to help others—that is the miracle that happened to me.

And that is why I am writing this. I hope that my words, like a warm bowl of abalone porridge and a crisp serving of dongchimi, can offer both comfort and a refreshing perspective to those who read them.