Everyday Miracles

I had a cat when I was a teenager. I saw it give birth one day. I thought I was watching a miracle unfold, seeing life come into being. Another time, I found a baby bird in the backyard. I kept it in a shoe box with a towel and fed it bread dipped with milk. I even made my brothers dig up worms for it. A week or so later, I put the bird up on a tree branch and it flew away. I felt honoured and humbled that even insignificant me had the opportunity to help a bird become itself.

I think we feel the awe of nature when we see life assert itself before us, when we see nature's creatures grow into what they are meant to be. There's a process that unfolds whether we pay attention or not. But if we choose to take part, we feel at one with nature. We help nature come into itself and we feel renewed because we've surrendered to a higher calling.

We often feel that way about kids, especially our own. We want to protect them, so they can grow into what they are, free from harm. We want to guide them, be the first to introduce them to what they will eventually encounter, so we feel we have taken part in their growth and our renewal. We make allowances for their stumbles, help them get back up and try again because our higher calling is generous and nurturing that way. Who knew we had it in us to do these things?

I was at the cemetery earlier today. It would have been my father's 80th birthday. Mom said we would've had a big bash. Dad would've been so proud. Mom and I hung wreaths of red silk flowers, one for my dad, one for my grandmother.

Later in the day, we went to The Boy's school concert. Oh he and his friends, bustling with dance, bursting with song, brimming with life. I have the great privilege of being The Boy's mother and play host to his friends when they come over.

Dad. The Boy. The Man. Melancholia. Reflections. Joy. The Boy wouldn't be here if my dad wasn't. The circle of life is full of everyday miracles.