|
Open your eyes and your heartmiracles happen.
During a rare, still and silent evening last week, I relaxed under the refreshing canopy of gently swaying aspen,
watching a pair of hungry orioles nibbling on safflower seeds.
The two songbirds chirped a happy duet as they diligently pecked from the bird feeder's generous offering.
From my relaxed position in a comfortable wicker chair on the front porch, with the delightfully satisfied song
of the orioles dancing in the twilight, the miracle of life was radiant.
Though I had spent a long and arduous day hawking previously-owned furniture and appliances in the stifling heat
and humidity of the garage sale showroom floor, these moments of relaxation sent shimmering light and cool relief
deep into my soul.
It was a miracle. Not the earth-shattering, never-to-be-explained, extraordinary event kind of miracle, but the
kind of miracle that is revealed by seeing the world with light in your eyes.
Some people are so closed to miracles, so certain that those kinds of radiant revelations just don't happen,
that even when one is blatantly staring them right in the face, they call it coincidence, fate, good luck, a
chance circumstance, or serendipity.
To me, those startling moments are miracles God-given gifts of revelation that manifest a glimpse into his
almighty work in a way that even a frazzled and distracted human being can recognize.
Miracles happen every single day, and if you keep your eyes wide open, you'll see them, too.
A miracle is watching a goose and her gander and their flock of little goslings cross rush hour Highway 10
without getting hit.
It's the sweet warm smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies warm from the oven on a cool autumn evening.
It's old friends crossing paths and interrupting their chaotic calendars to catch up on ever-changing,
always-growing life.
It's the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, and peace all through the night.
It's a tandem three-mile run and bicycle ride along freshly-mowed Kentucky bluegrass in dawn's early light.
It's an unexpected telephone call that makes a writer weep.
It's a dozen pure red roses and lilies the color of sunshine cut from the perennial bounty outside the front door.
It's the anticipation of friends and family gathering to celebrate newly-wedded life and love that'll
last forever and a day.
Every such moment is an opportunity to stop and offer thanks to my Creator, the giver of all good things.
Some miracle moments last a lifetime; some vanish with each breath, each heartbeat.
But in those moments, the pure and refreshing joy of this precious life, and the depth of the freedom and
forgiveness of new life lived to the fullest is revealed.
And I express my gratitude because I know miracles are happening all around us, right in front of us, at
every moment, with every breath.
Open your eyes and your heart and let the light in. You'll begin to see them, too.
|