I had included those same thoughts in a response to my sweet sister and her letter that had sparked that realization.
She wrote me back this week. With her letter she included a poem she had written, combining her words with mine and producing a precious piece of beauty. She said it needed some work, but I didn't dare touch it:
"I've often overlooked
or
perhaps ignored
what a
miracle is.
Assuming it to be
merely
the stuff of angels,
where I'm sure
a trumpet
sounded
and mayhaps some
heavenly light
was seen.
However,
miracles are quite
different.
Miracles are
loud.
Ones that make
men weep
and demons
hide
for fear.
Miracles are
quiet.
Ones that bring
more later.
Be it a simple prayer.
Miracles are
personal.
I can't say for you
and you can't say for me.
Personal miracles
are naturally
more sought for
and
more appreciated.
These are loud, quiet,
big, small
and all things
in between.
And
most important.
It's a miracle
I've made it
this far.
It's a miracle
you have
risen from
the ashes of
all things
unexpected.
That cause emotional
storms to
subside."
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