THE SMALLEST OF MIRACLES

The life of one may seem insignificant to another and ditto for the events in said life.  But when viewed with an uncommon vision, how wonderful those events can be!

A friend reminded me of this the other day.  She pointed out that when a hungry child begs, it does so with hope. And when a handout (particularly of the edible kind) answers that ‘prayer’, for that child it is a miracle.

Then take the events in my own not so insignificant life (that’s my opinion!).

A rat had found its way into my home thanks to the climbing frame of pipes outside my window.  I did my best to evict it, but all efforts at polite persuasion failed to work.   I turned to the Lord – the rat may be part of God’s creation but it is one part that I could do without. I told Him so. And then the ‘trap’, which had not worked till my fervent plea, held my furry enemy within its sticky grip. I offered thanks and got the watchman to place the rat in its rightful place in the food chain (yes, my opinion again).

When it rains heavily, one room is awash thanks to some destructive repair work.  I get down on hands and knees and change the ‘flood’ to ‘merely damp floor’ and offer thanks that I am still limber enough to grapple with the task.  Then it rained heavily for two consecutive days and I sent up an ‘admonition’ – how much strenuous exercise is a little old lady supposed to indulge in? Yes, the room remained bone dry! A miracle? For me, definitely!

I was raised to be polite and I believe in saying ‘Thank You’.  Pouring rain is however quite a deterrent to stepping out even to visit the House of God.  I rose, I ‘shined’ and donned my waterproof, with a little bit of ‘should I, shouldn’t I’ turning over in my mind.  The pour turned to a drip! Just for me? I guess so and for all those others who turned up for morning Mass - a time to share praise and worship, expectation and thanks. A time of reinforced faith in a time that breeds despair.

The smallest, most insignificant of positives can add up to make one realise that miracles happen when we pray.  Dare we ask for even bigger things? Like ‘peace’? Like ‘no child hungry’? Like ‘a love that makes the whole world one family’?

I dare! How about you?

IN THIS TIME OF MIRACLES

Perhaps it’s because they’re ‘Religious’.  Steeped in the word of the Lord, daily prayer and commitment to God’s work, it must come naturally to them that ‘what needs to be done will be done’, even if it takes a miracle to see things through. Times without number I’ve exclaimed, ‘Sister, you’re asking for a miracle!’ and Sister will calmly reply, ‘Yes.’

 

I’ve also lost count of the innumerable times that I have emphatically stated, ‘It simply cannot be done,’ and Sister has replied, ‘Just do it!’

We have an annual day coming up and, against the odds, we have a program to execute. Limited time, limited resources, limited talent, myriad things to do and it must all come right on the day. Perfection is demanded. Teachers are harried, children are hustled, helpers scurry, suppliers are summoned – there is an air of frantic anticipation and the tension can be cut with a knife.  Schedules overlap, tempers snap, rehearsals are called and cancelled or rearranged, props are lost and found, children are temporarily mislaid (they are on a quick trip to the loo and get ambushed by friends on the return trip), voices are raised in cross-chatter as instructions are called and countermanded, and everywhere there is bustle.  Harness that energy and you could light up a city!

Two days to go before dress rehearsal.  We go through the instructions, the sequence, the words, the actions, the song, one more time.  Will they get it right?  One child is out of sync.  One child stops to ask, ‘Miss, I haven’t got my costume.’ Another, ‘Miss, one girl is absent.  Should we keep her place?’ Another, ‘Miss, I need the bathroom.’ I take a deep breath and let it out. The costume problem is sorted out.  The absent girl is relegated to the back row if at all she turns up for dress rehearsal and the children are given a collective bathroom break. And we start again.  Now, there are two children out of sync.  We stop and practice the actions once again.  Everybody is together.  So, we sing.  They lose their note and do not notice!  (It’s good to remember that ‘sing’ is used more figuratively than literally – our children’s voices are not music to the ears).  I make them revise the tonic sol fa and we start again.  One, two, three, go! We get through the song with more enthusiasm than finesse.  Isn’t that what children are all about? I hope so.  Because, by now I’m limp, wrung out, brain dead.  Never mind.  There’s always tomorrow.  And then the event will be over before you know it.  If I survive till then.

Will everything go right on the day? 

I couldn’t say for sure.  What I do know is that it will take a miracle!

Small Miracles

I once received a birthday card which wished me a day of small miracles: the ‘perfect’ cup of coffee to start the day, always finding my keys where I looked for them, and similar happy thoughts! Anyone who has known the frustration of mislaying their keys would know what I mean.

Today has been such a day; one of unexpected happy occurrences. Yesterday, the gas cylinder offered up its last gasp and the phone went dead. Early today, the phone rang unexpectedly - a fortuitous wrong number which signaled that the phone was now working. I promptly dialed for the gas and, wonder of wonders, a few hours later the gas man was on our doorstep with the refill. It normally takes two to three days for this to happen and that too after a couple of reminders.

Our drinking water is supplied at the doorstep in jumbo jars. It is supposed to arrive any time on the Monday but requires several reminders before it does, sometimes turning up on the Tuesday – a 24 hour delay. Today, the delivery man turned up bright and early with the 25 litre jar and smilingly fitted it for me. For once, no nail-biting delay.

Then, my friendly neighbour called the mango vendor to her door and bargained for the purchase. She won the price she wanted but found that she would need to take more than she could consume. I was glad to take the dozen that she didn’t want and I now have a week’s supply of my favourite fruit at what, in today’s terms, is a throwaway price.

A call from a faraway niece to say, ‘just thinking of you’, onions that did not get burnt, a new crochet pattern that moved forward smoothly without unraveling required - yes, the day has indeed been sprinkled with small miracles.

Well, this piece has perforce to be brief as there is a grindstone waiting for my nose. But it is a pleasant grindstone and so the day should end as well as it has begun.