miracles.

I sometimes pray for miracles. I wait in expectation for God to move, to heal friends who are sick or broken, to meet the needs of myself and of others. I pray to see the divine in some kind of undeniable way that will restore the faith of all of us. I look around and feel that in some moments we all seem so lost that we could never find our way to wholeness and happiness and love without some mighty miraculous sweep of God's hand. I sit and hope and wait.

But miracles are common things. As usual and solid as the ground that we step all over every day. There is hurt, yes. And so much poverty and brokenness it breaks my heart. But waiting does no good. I have hands to help. That is a miracle. I have a voice to speak. That, too, is a miracle.

I know in my heart that God moves through human skin, human thoughts, human love-- but still I so often sit and do nothing. Perhaps the most miraculous thing of all, is that even when I choose to be lazy, when I sit doing nothing, waiting for God to move; even when I am so utterly selfish, failing so incredibly... grace rains. It pours. Abundant blessings fill up my life. Miracles shower down on me, even when I forget to be a miracle for someone else.

Today, I ate a clementine and a banana, fruit shipped across the world, over lands and seas so I could hold it in my hand and taste it on my tongue. Today, I heard a familiar voice say I love you after a long day. Today, I sat with friends and talked about fears and hopes and smaller silly things. Today, I walked and the earth met my feet and kept me from sinking. Today, I read words on a page and was moved. These are my rich blessings. These are real miracles.

God is moving, every day, every moment, graciously inviting me to be a living miracle for others. To be the one who hears, gives, loves.... I hope that I have the courage to say Yes. To out pour miracles with the same kind of free abundance that is poured out on me.