We don’t all get the same miracle.
My life is filled with miracles. But I didn’t get the one someone else did.
And I think that is really just not fair. It proves what I have suspected all along:
God is not running a democracy.
And, as a good American, I really am not sure I agree with this. I see other people’s miracles and think I would like to have those for myself too. I had an Aunt with cancer and would like Little Sir to know her. Why didn’t we get a miracle of healing?
I wanted to adopt and brought children into my home I loved, yet could not keep. Why didn’t I get that other lady’s miracle of finding her children through adoption?
And the baser ones: why are people winning the lottery TWICE when I have never won ONCE?
It’s not that I don’t want my miracles.
I’m not suggesting God institute a return or exchange policy. Or that trade up method carnivals have where you can trade 3 small miracles for 1 medium and up the chain till you get the big ol’ flashy ones that drew you to the booth in the first place…
No, I don’t think so.
It’s more than I’m kinda greedy and want ALL the miracles.
And I’m fine if you get them all too. I don’t know why I got healthy kids. I don’t know why I came through my childhood with what passes for pretty much normal and others do not. I don’t know why the knock came at the door with food and warmth after starving and freezing when it did and you might still be waiting.
Going back to the Indians and the Pilgrims images of this Thanksgiving Miracle Month: The Pilgrims got fed and saved. The Indians got small pox.
I don’t get it. I don’t know how it works. My Great Great Grandfather was half English and half Miwok Indian. Confusion has been in my family for generations.
I do know that in the midst of any of the miracles I have experienced: I do not question. I do not feel confused. I do plenty of that before and more than I want to admit to after.
But while the miracle is there all shiny and stunning in all its glory of miracle-ness, I am quiet.
I am at a place of deep sigh.
A sigh so deep it hollows me out.
And leaves me full.