I am seeking a long list of miracles. My prayers are filled with pleas for friends and family members with severely ill children, marriages I deeply care about unraveling, rebellious kids making life-damaging decisions, parents aching with worry and grief, loved ones dealing with addiction, lost jobs and struggling businesses, mental illness and an abundance of heartache.
My tiny challenges seem inconsequential when these serious matters are going on around me. And yet, I was reminded today that the details of our lives matter. Miracles, even tiny ones, are still miracles.
From the simple –
I have a friend in New York City who we joke has the best “parking juju” in the world. I can only recall one instance where he didn’t find a parking spot almost exactly where he wanted it. His secret is two fold.
- He is intentional and thoughtful about where the parking spot needs to be down to the estimated time he needs it and requesting intuitiveness about what route to take, where and when to turn to find the space he needs.
- He trusts the parking space will arrive and has utter confidence and faith that this detail will be taken care of – not because it’s hugely important, but because it’s important to him.
I believe God consistently steps in on this matter for my friend because it is a very clear and direct way to show my friend he is heard, he is loved, and that the details of his life matter. I know you could write it off as coincidence. But this has been happening for decades. Decades! It’s not the parking space that matters. It is what it represents.
Well, today for the first time in more than 40 years of traveling and hundreds of flights, I missed my plane. I have four children waiting for me at home. My dear caregivers are leaving in the morning. The only flight was a red-eye, at a cost substantially more than the original ticket price. This was not a viable solution.
So we got very specific, both in terms of getting on the flight that I’d been told was full and negotiating a lower price. After many agonizing minutes on hold, some talking, more waiting and then a bit more waiting, I was offered the earlier flight and all fees waived except for $50. This time it was more than a parking space. It was expectant children and a strained budget and an exhausted mother who needed to be home.
To the substantial –
As I wept today over my long list of requested miracles, of the challenges and sadness of so many of my loved ones — all markedly more significant than my flight — I was reminded that when we partner with the divine, the divine partners with us. The small miracles of parking spaces and getting home are the precursors to the larger and more important matters.
Perhaps the miracle is to see the divine in the every day. It’s gratitude and faith in the midst of the trial, in the thick of the heartache and the trauma. And sometimes the miracle is in the pain itself, because only then can healing happen.
And that, whether of heart or mind or body, is the greatest miracle of them all.
P.S. Kudos to Delta Airlines for getting me home to my family!
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