Have miracles ceased?

We took a trip to the mall today (it's "M" day and I used it as an excuse to go shopping for Father's day). Perhaps it's my self-consciousness, but I'm painfully aware of every look and comment directed at my little family when we venture out. They run the gamut. The usual? "You've got your hands full." Even more often? "Is the baby a girl, too?" The occasional? You need to call SuperNanny. (Okay, that's only happened once, last week, in fact, but I'm surprised I haven't heard it more often.) Mix those in with a bunch of nostalgic smiles from a few old people, impatience from the rest of the old people, and some shaking heads from parents of only a few, who wonder what would have possessed someone to have so many, so close. It's fun.

But that's not what I wanted to blog about.

We traveled home in a heavy drizzle and happened upon a car accident. I couldn't help but think of how lucky I was to avoid this particular accident, along with all the other even more close calls I've experienced over the years. Had I left a few minutes earlier, or not stopped to get a bag of Mrs. Field's cookies (another "m" word) for my young ones. You know, that sort of thing.

When I lived in Taiwan, I used to say that every day was a miracle. I rode a bike in all sorts of atrocious weather in all sorts of mangled traffic and emerged pretty much scot-free. While riding on the far right hand side of the street (which the bikes and mopeds often did), someone opened the driver's side door of a parked car without warning and my companion ran smack dab into it. Within seconds and over a dozen screeching tires later, she was beneath another car, the front tire an inch away from her helmet. Miracle.

Yesterday our family scoured family videos, laughing at old memories. After the kids went to bed, Tim and I watched a few more, particularly those taken when Eve was born. Her tiny purple body, inside of me just seconds before, then thrust upon my chest and cradled with the utmost care and love. It was amazing. Miraculous, even.

I was reading in Moroni 7 over a week ago. It reads:
27 Wherefore, my beloved brethren, have miracles ceased because Christ hath ascended into heaven, and hath sat down on the right hand of God, to claim of the Father his rights of mercy which he hath upon the children of men?

37 Behold I say unto you, Nay; for it is by faith that miracles are wrought; and it is by faith that angels appear and minister unto men; wherefore, if these things have ceased wo be unto the children of men, for it is because of unbelief, and all is vain.

I have seen miracles. And I have failed to see them, when I might otherwise have. Hopefully my faith will prove sufficient to recognize them again, and again, and again.