Don't Miss the Miracle(s)

When we tell the story of Jesus' nativity on Christmas Eve, there will surely be those in the pews pondering the miracle of Jesus' birth to Mother Mary and his peculiar presence in a manger among the animals. We ponder this one big miracle, and the earth shaking events around the birth of Jesus along with Mary who burst out in song when she learned she would be the one to birth the Creator into the Creation. 

I hope you won't stop with that one big miracle. Instead, I hope the birth of Jesus Christ will light the fuse of your awareness of miracles happening in your life all the time. Give that rational, reasoning, over-function, ego-oriented part of you a rest, and relish in the mystery of God's real presence right there in your heart, in your family, and in the good creation surrounding you. 

I recently visited my sister's property in Refugio, where I got to sit in a deer blind for several sunrises and several sunsets. My mind wandered back to the monastic men and women of the Middle Eastern deserts, and the Celtic Isles, and all over the world who have observed nature as a second scripture. They found God at work all around them, teaching them, and moving within them; they witnessed miracles as they sat in nature. Why wouldn't I take the opportunity of the relative solitude of a deer blind to observe God's handiwork? Each sunrise and sunset pulls up songs and Psalms in my heart: "Now as we come to the setting of the sun, and our eyes behold the vesper light, we sing your praises, O God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit..." (from the Phos Hilaron), and "Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I climb up to heaven, you are there; if I make the grave my bed, you are there also. If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand will lead me and your right hand hold me fast." (from Psalm 139)

Oh yes! The Sea (or in our case the Gulf) lapping at our beach, or perhaps you can witness it from a boat if you are so fortunate. The vast waters constantly remind us that God and the rest of God's good creation are so much bigger than our imaginations can conceive. It is a miracle that any of us is even alive to witness the rising of the sun and watch it's relatively shorter course across the sky during winter months. These longer nights, when the stars seem to shine brighter are the months we pause to remember the birth of The Light into the world. John the Baptist asked us to wake up and prepare our hearts to be ready for Christ's arrival. 

In the blind, as I sat with my son watching for the arrival of deer, I noticed how even when I was trying to pay attention, the sudden presence of another creature in the dim light of pre-dawn startled me. I noticed our whispered conversations to be like those I once shared with my dad sitting in a blind in East Texas. I saw the joy in my son's blood-smeared face as I taught him how to clean his first deer. It was not as miraculous as the day he was born, his face was blood-smeared then, too, but it was close. The messiness and reality of it all was miraculous. The bodies of animals and our own bodies the temple of God's presence. I found myself saying, "yes" along with Mary whose body was the vehicle for divinity. 

Whatever your family traditions, stories, ways of noticing God at work in your life, I invite you this year to let the one big miracle of God's birth to make you more aware of your own blessed existence, and those whom you love. Give in to the joy and sing right along with Mother Mary, "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior..." This year in our darkened church on Christmas Eve, I am looking forward to seeing Eli, with a clean face, serve at the altar as I once did. Together with Christians around the world we will celebrate together the miracle of Christ's coming into the world: God Incarnate. I hope remembering the birth of Jesus Christ this year will illuminate the miracles happening in your own life all the time.