And how could we endure to live and let time pass if we were always crying for one day or one year to come back–if we did not know that every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day?
C. S. Lewis
I’ve started this one more than once. Some in my head, in traffic. Some lying in bed—early morning, late at night. Walking to work. In the shower. Finally at the computer.
Like the proverbial light bulb, something hit me.
Expecting. Anticipating. Waiting Counting days. Whether we use candles, games or in the silence of our hearts.
Waiting for….a miracle.
Fifty-six years ago tonight my parents had been playing a waiting game. The eight years between my brother’s birth and my adoption. My uncle’s untimely death. Ordinary days. Extraordinary days. Wondering, waiting, hoping and praying. ….every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation….My family were such people.
A drive to Shreveport, a family is changed. I was changed. Everything is changed…
by love….
by the gift of patient waiting.
Over these December weeks I’ve focused on giving of self rather than something that can be wrapped and tied with a bow. My parents’ ninety mile journey that December was such a selfless act….
but others also show such acts…..parents, children, friends, strangers.
Last weekend, the A Capella caroling group I sing with had the opportunity to sing for the residents of one of our local retirement communities. It was a lovely morning singing carols and Hanukkah songs as well as celebrating the 97th birthday of one of the long-time arts supporters. As we were wrapping up someone tapped me on the shoulder, asking if one of us could sing a carol in his mother’s room. We all went.
Voices of all ages filling a room. A son gently holding and caressing a hand that had once cradled him…
Silent Night. Holy Night. Sleep in heavenly peace.
…..every day in a life fills the whole life with expectation and memory and that these are that day……
Connection. Gift. Selfless……Love’s pure light.
My take-away is this: miracles aren’t the same as magic.
Miracles are found in ordinary things like oil or a baby, a song you’ve sung thousands of times, sharing time with family and friends. The gift, at least for me this year, is to remember how extraordinary ordinary is….then to wait for it…
in gratitude….. for each day…
BethSings 