Sure – big sudden miracles are great. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it can be quite handy to strike a bolt of lightning on demand, part a sea once in a while or transubstantiate water into wine (although if you ask my opinion, I would have stopped that one at the grape juice stage).
But to be honest, I think my favourite kind of miracles are those quiet everyday ones. The ones that drop by drop trickle into our lives. The ones that sneak in imperceptibly through the back door while you are having a lovely day and forget to lock it. They start out as whispers that intertwine with the pauses and silences of our lives. If you are lucky, you might just catch their shadow with the corner of your eye.
But then one day you suddenly notice them sitting right beside you and nonchalantly sipping their coffee, maybe even casually flipping through a newspaper. So subtly and so gradually they merge into your life that it feels like it has always been this way. It seems that the great quest you had for a miracle never really existed in the first place. And nobody remembers what it was all like before the miracle happened.Tags: loving what is miracles Traveler's Notebook writing