There are tiny baby rabbits in my front yard today and I’m afraid I forget to realize what a miracle that is. Rabbits, yes. But grass too, and clouds and sky and time and color and raindrops too. And smiles. Smiles are definitely miracles, wouldn’t you say?
I know I spend so much life waiting for something to become ideal, for a good day or the bottom of the laundry pile, for bedtime or nap time or bath time or dinner time, to pass the hours, and I don’t always know how to be present in this life, moment by moment. But these rabbits remind me… that it starts with awareness. Awareness of miracles, big and small. And I wonder how many I miss, moment by moment, when I’m all too focused on what the clock says and what the calendar says and what the pessimistic lady down the street says about this or that, and while I’m all numbers and frustrations, those miracles they fly right by and I barely give them a scowl while barking about bedtimes or who left their socks on the floor or reminding them, again, how crazy it makes me to have to tell them over and over and over.
But doesn’t He? Tell me over and over? Tell me of His love over and over in word and Spirit and whisper by whisper in small, transparent miracle after miracle?
I’ve been practicing gratitude. I know many of us have, lately. And in that practice is first the practice of awareness, of vision, of clarity. If I numb out to the daily moments, if I gloss over and tally them up on a to-do list, instead of a thank-you list, they become the daunting chore of living. If I accept them, roll them around in my head and hands a bit and chew on the depth and breadth of this. tiny. second in time… then I am made aware. And I can be grateful. And I can receive the miracle.
So I aim to catch those moment-by-moment love letters from my Great Father, catch them and devour them each, one by one, lest they fly past me and end in ashes at my feet, unnoticed. Join me? What small miracle have you nearly missed, today?