I’m always surprised watching children grow. Watching my own children grow is a constant astonishment.

Every day, I find myself overwhelmed by the simple, miraculous passage of their lives, from one stage to the next.

I wonder endlessly: what do children think about? What is happening in those little minds when they reach out, when they smile? What does it mean to them? Even observing the smallest milestones—the moment they lift their necks, the first hesitant reach of their hands, the way they sit up, steadying themselves, learning balance—I am reminded that life itself is extraordinary.

Then comes crawling—the first shuddering push of legs and arms, the little gasp when they realise they can actually move toward something—they erupt with discovery.

Every tumble, every hesitant reach, is an announcement: “I can do this. I am learning.” And then standing with support, holding onto furniture or your hands, rocking back and forth as if rehearsing the world, testing their balance.

And then—oh, the first step. That one moment is not to be missed. The sort of joy it brings, the laughter, the applause, the tears that threaten to fall—it’s pure elation. One tiny foot in front of the other, wobbling, unsure, and yet determined.

In that instant, the world feels impossibly vast and full of possibility, and you are there, helpless and amazed, watching your child take it all in.

Not forgetting those early babbles, the tentative sounds before the first words tumble out—it’s as though the world itself is teaching them how to speak, how to be, how to claim their place in it. Every new word is a revelation. Every laugh, every cry, every curious glance, is a glimpse into a universe I will never fully understand.

I watch my children, and I think: God is truly amazing. Because to witness the emergence of thought, the unfolding of personality, the raw, unfiltered wonder in a child’s eyes—there is nothing else quite like it.

It’s a reminder that growth, however small or slow it seems, is sacred. And that in the ordinary moments, the miraculous is quietly, insistently happening.