On my computer, I opened up a new email.
I typed my mother’s name into the address bar.
In the subject line, I wrote: I AM WRITING THIS TO YOU FROM UP IN THE AIR!
My computer was sitting on a tray table which was screwed to a chair which was attached to a tube of aluminum which was zipping along 39,000 feet above planet earth.
Billions of emails have been sent from this altitude. But there is no rule stating that Frequent = Not Miraculous. Billions of people have been born. Billions of birds have taken flight. Billions of hearts have beaten.
I don’t walk around in a glowing state of awe; pain, violence, destruction are a real part of this world. And so, too, are these billions of common, quiet miracles.
When I remember – wherever I am (and anywhere will do) – I tell myself, THIS is some kind of miraculous. And it’s doubly great when you can share it with someone who loves a good ordinary miracle.
“Awesome!!” my mum responded from thousands of feet down and thousands of miles away.
And for a moment, I got that little rush we get when we remember, Oh, right, I’m participating in some kind of miracle.