Everyday Miracles

 Why, who makes much of a miracle? / As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, / Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields, / Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, / Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle, / The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships with men in them, / What stranger miracles are there?
    — “Miracles” by Walt Whitman

Our Bible Study recently focused a couple of sessions on miracles. Amazing, unexplainable, astonishing happenings that fill us with wonder and awe. What fills you with wonder and awe?  What miracles have you experienced in your life? I believe that even in the midst of troubling times, pandemic, trauma, overwhelming grief, and stress, God’s miracles surround us—calling us to pay attention, to be astounded, to slow down, and to wake our senses to the grace that can ground us in the presence of the Holy.  

This past week, Clive was rummaging around in the kitchen for a school assignment looking for conventional and metric weights for common household items. In the process, an unopened glass bottle of teriyaki sauce fell and busted all over the kitchen floor. It was a huge mess. My first reaction was to cuss and fume. Then, I took a breath. My anger was not going to help anything or solve the problem. We slowed down, got the paper towels, took turns mopping up the mess. It wasn’t an angels-opening-up-the-sky moment. But it was an ordinary moment of grace.  A ready miracle of working together to solve a problem that no one intentionally caused but that, nevertheless, needed attention. And it does fill me with wonder and awe. Even big, inconvenient messes can do that. It felt like an invitation to be more present to my life, my son, the home we create and build together, how we relate, and how we address problems.

I think the church has opportunities to do the same. We are called to slow down and notice the needs in our community. We are called to consider ways we can be present and address real problems. We are called to recognize the beauty and everyday miracles that fill our world with wonder and possibility.

See you in church,
Christy