I have a problem with the miracles in the Bible. You know, the healings, feeding 5,000 with a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish, turning wine into water.

I believe them by faith and certainly when we’re talking about God-driven miracles, anything is possible.

Where I have a problem is with me … and others like me who tend to get bogged down with the BIG miracles while neglecting the every day little miracles. We sort of expect the life changing miracle and then become disappointed when the mountain doesn’t move.

I like to think I’m pragmatic enough to realize most of life’s challenges are a direct result of our choices. If I spend too much I can expect red numbers in my checkbook. If I eat too much, especially the good stuff, I will probably get clogged arteries or worse. If I smoke … well, I won’t go there. And what happens? We run into financial trouble or suffer physical ailments or stare the angel of death in the eye and we plead — yes, plead — for one more chance, for Divine intervention. And, unfortunately, there are too many pastors and preachers promising the BIG miracle that just don’t come.

When Karen was diagnosed with cancer, one of my anthems was Ray Boltz’ Dare To Believe. And I did believe my faith could move that mountain.

I still believe it. But I was looking at the mountain moving — a healing — instead of the time — no the quality of time — we had together. It is the everyday triumphs we should focus on.  In her words, Karen said, “I am taking things one day at a time and I’m grateful for each day I’m blessed with.” She added, “I’ve tried to do something each day that makes me happy” and she ticked off such monumental accomplishments like going to BJs … watching Mama Mia … heading Wegman’s for a few groceries … a blue sky with white fluffy clouds.

Over the years, before and since Karen’s illness, I always focused on the little miracles … the tulips popping from a blanket of snow … finding a parking space somewhere close to the store at the mall … everything coming together when all seemed lost … watching the kids play and joining in with them.

It’s a combination of faith and trust.

One of my favorite anecdotes {miracles?} came in March of 1976. Karen and I went to Illinois for one of my job interviews. We left on a Friday afternoon and returned Sunday night, landing at O’Hare Airport in a blizzard.

The interview went well, but I really needed Karen’s input on whether I should make the career move and how she felt about it. I figured we could discuss it further over a sit down dinner at the airport. I chose the Seven Continents Restaurant at O’Hare. I didn’t realize at the time, Seven Continents was a five star dining establishment. The waiters wore tuxedo jackets, busboys filled and refilled water glasses from silver pitchers, white-clothed tables were adorned with cut flowers and pretty glassware. And it was positioned in the upper level of the rotunda that connected terminals 2 and 3, with panoramic views of the planes coming and going from the seven continents.

I should have known I was staring at trouble when there weren’t any prices on the menu. But I remember it vividly. We ordered the Caesar Salad and Chateaubriand — that’s all, no drinks, no appetizers, no dessert — and I damn near fainted when the $75 bill came. We didn’t have credit cards at the time, just cash … all of $84.10. The waiter got stiffed and I remember praying, “How am I going to get out this one, Lord?” which has almost always been my mantra over the years.

I still had to get our car out of the parking lot in New Jersey. I handed over the ticket and the tab came to $9.

When we got home, I plunked down that last dime on the kitchen table. Karen asked me what that was for … and I told her the story. Boy, did my arm hurt!!!

Those are the little miracles that get lost when looking at the mountain. We survived another day. And it was good!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Life is too short to spend it trying to keep others happy.

About wisdomfromafather

I'm just an ordinary guy walking along the journey of life.
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