Sunday, August 8, 2010

Miracles, Big and Small

Today I was formatting my book, A Walk Through Grief: Crossing the Bridge Between Worlds for ebook publication in addition to print and Kindle, and wanted to share this.

Possibly you have experienced something similar, but if not, I do hope you are open to the possibility of experiencing this sort of thing. This is from my Chapter 9, Miracles, Big and Small:

If we can accept the fact that life does not end at death and that our loved ones are still around us then it should be easy to believe that from time to time we can experience communication with them and from them. That communication may come through to us if we are open to receive it and believe that it could occur. It may come in subtle ways, or it may be profound, we may have healthy skepticism, or we may deny that an unmistakable event has occurred right before our eyes.

Just recently I had the opportunity to spend the afternoon with a woman I had met about two years ago, several months following her husband's death. We had not seen or spoken to each other since that last visit. This time, we had the commonality of widowhood to discuss. As we talked and exchanged experiences, she told me she had asked her late husband for a sign that he was still around her. She asked him to give her one red rose. She dared him to do it and she set up a deadline. She had to have the rose by the following Thursday at midnight. That particular Thursday afternoon came and she received an unexpected package in the mail from one of her dear women friends with whom she had not discussed her challenge to her deceased husband. Inside the package was a pretty blouse and lying on top of it were two dried red roses. She laughed and said, "See, he couldn't do it. I didn't want two roses, I asked for one."

It was my turn to laugh. "He sent you two roses. He showed you he could do it and do one better."

"But I only wanted one rose," she insisted. We both had a good laugh.

A recent Time magazine poll reported that 69% of people believe in miracles. But how do we classify a miracle? Does it have to be a profound event such as the Virgin Mary appearing to the children of Medjugorje?–or could it be our deceased grandmother standing at the foot of our bed? Is it an extraordinary healing or mysterious warning voice that calls out and saves us from disaster? Could it be the tears flowing from a religious statue or is it a little two year old boy who says he has been playing with his deceased grandfather? Is it the appearance of a guardian angel at a time of deep depression or could it be the warm hand on our shoulder when no one is around?

Or, could a miracle be two red roses?

If we are not open to receiving a miracle in whatever form it comes to us we may miss it. Albert Einstein said, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as if everything is."

So, as Einstein told us, the choice in how we perceive our world is ours, and ours alone. Miracles may come to us in many guises, in subtle ways, without a marching band announcing their arrival, through prayer, without demand, with just a glimpse, when most needed, through epiphany, at a moment of meditation, with the helping hand of a stranger, with the cry of a newborn infant, or with the wrinkled hand that reaches for one last touch, with the flower that bursts forth revealing its beauty, and with every beat of our heart and every breath we take. Life is a miracle. Each one of us is a miracle. The world is filled with miracles, tiny ones, big ones, incredible ones, profound ones but never, ever, insignificant. The cosmic dance of life is filled with miracles, it is the way God planned it. He would expect us to embrace them with joy, reach out with anticipation, revel in the extraordinary beauty, and allow ourselves to be touched by His gifts. If we expect a miracle, it may very well be ours.



Natalie said...

Lovely post, Linda.

Linda Pendleton said...

Thank you, Natalie :-)

Gemel said...