On Miracles

18 Mar

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Anne Lamott once said that going from an addict who couldn’t take care of herself to a sober, functioning mother was a moderate sized miracle.

She had transformed herself completely, changed things she thought impossible.

It was a miracle.

 

I don’t use the world miracle often, even in hyperbole.  Miracle always seemed too big and intangible. Do I believe in miracles? Sure.

(Where you from? You sexy thing.)

But what have I classified as a miracle?  What in my life, of relative health and prosperity qualifies as an actual miracle?  I haven’t been healed from some life-threatening illness. I haven’t lifted a car with brute strength or survived  a dramatic plane crash on berries and volleyballs alone.

Reading Anne Lamott, though, I realized that I have experienced miracles.

Miracles are things that you previously thought impossible that you’ve now done.

Staying sober.

Having a conversation that could have never happened five years ago.

Getting over something–something impossible.  Something you knew in your heart you could never ever ever after 60 years get over, and yet.

Here you are.

You are over it.

These are miracles.

 

Grace.

I think it goes back to grace.  I’ve been studying grace for a few months now, and like miracle, it was not a word I used very often or saw very often in my life.

But the other day I bought a pair of pants online and they were too small and my first thought was I would lose 10 lbs.

An hour later I recognized how unhealthy this all was and that the pants were the wrong size, I wasn’t the wrong size.  I put them back in their package, took them to the post office, and returned them.

I realized that so often in my life I assume I’m the wrong size rather than my pants/someone else/the situation is the wrong size fit for me.  I realized that I am the right size as I am.

Right now.

This very moment.

 

It was grace.

It was a miracle.

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