Inspirational Reading
A MIRACLE MORNING
In her poem "Aurora Leigh,"
Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote:
Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
I have certainly plucked my share
of blackberries, blind to what
wonder there is in life. But on
occasion I have also had my eyes
opened by others, a bit more
sensitive and aware. I cherish those
moments and recall them when
life gets too routine and ordinary. I'll
never forget one such moment.
I stumbled out the door of a
mountain cabin where I was spending the
weekend working with youth and
their families at a rustic retreat
center. I had a 6:30 a.m.
appointment to keep and squinted from the
early autumn sun peeking over
pine-blanketed mountaintops.
"Today is a miracle!" spoke a
young, enthusiastic voice behind me. I
turned toward the radiant face of
my teen-aged friend.
"How?" I asked her. I wasn't sure
if I could handle any excitement
this early in the morning.
"Think about it," she smiled. "The
sun rose, didn't it?"
"Yeah." I found it easy to hide any
enthusiasm. It seemed to rise on
every other morning without
any help from me.
"That's a miracle! It is miraculous
that the earth turns as it does.
At night, the sun goes down and in
the morning it rises. It just
happens!"
I pretty much had this figured out
years ago, I thought, as I rubbed
sleep from my eyes. I was also busy
thinking about how to get a cup of
coffee.
"And look at the mountains! Covered
with trees and grass, they look so
beautiful. And there," she pointed,
"a valley. It's all a miracle!"
"What have I stumbled into?" I
thought. "And where is the coffee?"
"Wildflowers blooming," she
continued. "It all smells so fresh and
clean and so good." She took a deep
breath. Her blue eyes sparkled.
"All of nature receives water
and light. Things grow and blossom --
it is all so beautiful."
Maybe it wasn't coffee I
needed...but whatever she had gotten into! I
didn't know if it was her bubbly
personality or the freshness of the
morning, but I began to sense her
enchantment with the daybreak. A
little, anyway. Somehow, she had me
believing that the day did hold a
certain magic.
Then, with a smile that seemed to
make her blonde curls laugh, she
gave her pronouncement a note of
finality. "And best of all, it will
happen again tomorrow. And the next
day! And the next!" She sighed.
"It's a miracle morning!"
My young friend showed wisdom
beyond her years. For her, earth was
"crammed with heaven" and "every
bush afire." She should never want
for happiness, for she had already
learned, at such an early age, to
find wonder in the commonplace
and to feel gratitude for the
ordinary. If each day for her is a
miracle, then a lifetime will be no
less than a marvelous
extravaganza!