maybe the miracle isn't the spectacular event at all.the walking on water,
turning water into wine,
rising from the dead.
maybe the miracle is instead found
in the new light of the ordinary,
the steady warmth of belonging,
and the familiar hum of
a thousand tiny changes,
that tender hope and love
and the needed strength
to hold on.
*Cyndi Dale's article, "Bodywork and the Business of Miracles" planted the seed for this poem. Especially her line "... it's easy to forget that pronounced swings of fate are usually preceded by thousands of tiny changes".