When you make space for miracles.....they show up.
In the most ordinary places.
In camping trips rained out.
In puppies that play their butts off.
In words of support from friends and sisters.
From magic places like Point No Point.
In window boxes.
In trees already beginning the autumn leaf dance
In hot coffee with milk served by a friend in a rainstorm..who had to get out of a comfortable seat wrapped in a blanket to share.
In book group sisters who come with sharings from the heart and who laugh and know how to help themselves to tea in the kitchen.
In star sisters who leave soup on the porch with notes.
In partners who give up quality reading and sleeping time to help with nametags, alphabetizing, spreadsheets, and tear-wiping.
In Christmas music anytime of the year.
In cozy fires in the still safe, acting as if it is still brand new woodstove.
In self-forgiveness.
In self-patience.
In self-doubt and then laughing your *ss off about it because it is going to be alright anyway. Somehow. No matter the pain, loss, betrayal, stress.
In sisters who cherish our times together so much that we are planning to train for Yuletide concerts whether we dance in public or not.
In year-old nephews who teach 5 month old puppies how to fetch and not jump up.
In teenaged nephews who teach us about chutzpah and vulnerability.
In the nieces who do the same.
In the older nephews who used to be like that and who are now behaving like daddies.
In knowing the menu for Point No Point, rain, hail, wind, or shine--on Sunday night-au jus and salads, Saturday night--turkey night, on Friday night--who knows and Monday--leftovers.
In the mud, wind, rain, cold, mud, rain, wind, and cold.
In the heron over the trees.
In the walks to the lighthouse.
In the memories that hold no pain or bitterness or sadness--just sweetness and gentle missings.
In reaching out and touching those that weren't there in body with my heart and feeling the touch back. Miracles.
I'm expecting more of those tomorrow, the day after, this entire week, and frankly, for the rest of my life.