The Miraculous Part 7
January 24, 2026
The Miraculous Part 7
The greatest miracle in the world is being held in love.
Imagine a world without caring, empathy, or connection; it would be a place of unraveling, spiraling into self-involvement, conflict, and despair. At times, it may feel as though we are inching toward that world. We see periods of regression, fear, and hatred.
And yet, love persists. It is perennial. It is woven into our genes, our psyches, and our deepest human heritage. Love continually rises again, restoring what is good, conscious, and whole. Love is also the energy of the earth, that restores itself, and holds each of us, if we allow it.
Every mother and father, every caretaker who gathers a child to their chest and whispers “I love you,” passes on more than words. They transmit a living miracle. Everyone who protects the young, the fragile, and the forgotten carries love forward. As long as children are born and people choose to care for them, love will continue. As long as we show up for one another in moments of pain, love will continue. Love renews the world, one quiet act at a time.
This fall, the northern lights made rare appearances across our country. Millions, seeing them for the first time stood in breathless awe as the sky rippled with color. Why does the miraculous thrill us so profoundly? Perhaps because miracles feel like a homecoming. They remind us of the Source from which we came and which still holds us. To see a miracle is to glimpse into our origin.
Miracles may seem rare, or rarely recognized, but they are a taste of the reality our souls remember. As infants and young children, we lived in a state of wonder. Bliss was our atmosphere. Everything shimmered with possibility. It is natural, then, that we hunger for the miraculous, even if only for a fleeting moment. It reconnects us to the truth of where we began.
I remember, as a child, how miracles arrived daily. The world continually revealed itself through enchantment. Deep in the woods near my home was a natural artesian well with a small pond beside it. Despite the “No Trespassing” signs, I visited often because it felt like my little place. The pond teemed with tadpoles, bullfrogs, crayfish, and thick green life. Even in the summer heat, the air there remained cool and alive. I now know it was a “thin place,” a threshold between worlds, but at the time I felt its pull. Honestly, I felt at one with that place.
I imagined the Native Americans who may once have gathered there, cooling themselves under the trees' canopy and drinking the pure water. Even now, I can return there just by closing my eyes. It had its own presence, an energy I felt but couldn’t name. Sometimes I brought a trusted friend to share the secret, and they, too, were captivated. Many asked to return.
I loved that hidden spring, and in some mysterious way, it loved me back. It was part of the world that held me, supported me, and whispered that I belonged to something larger, fiercer, and more beautiful than I yet understood. I had no words for it then. I had only impressions etched into my soul... a felt experience that, without words, told me I was held and loved.
And that, too, is a miracle.
Spiritual practice: Revisit a childhood sacred space of yours. If you cannot physically go, go into meditation and fill your mind with images of that special place. Please take note of how it cared for you, nurtured you, and helped bring you into being.
Self-inquiry: Why would your soul enjoy a trip back to that wondrous place?
Prayer:
For the space that nurtured me, I am so grateful. Amen
