Have you ever witnessed a miracle? You probably have – they happen all the time, but we often chalk them up to serendipity or coincidence. “Flashes of Hallelujah” my friend Julie calls them. Not flamboyant stuff like winning the Lottery (though that would certainly count), just small everyday miracles like making it to the gas station with the needle on “E,” discovering that your old jeans still fit, being escorted by a pair of dragonflies along a footpath in the woods, finding a handwritten letter among the bills and junk in your mailbox, or getting the laundry down off the line in time to beat the storm. Last week, I stuck my hand into the pocket of a rain jacket I hadn’t worn since spring and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. This past Thursday, I harvested a dozen blushing-yellow tomatoes from my garden, more than I’d be able to use, and in short order, the extras were adopted by a most grateful neighbor. On Friday, my dog did his business a minute before we reached the front door, so I didn’t have to carry his reeking poo-sack for the entire walk. Some are a bit more mysterious, like two Sundays ago when I went out to get the paper. I glanced around the quiet cul-de-sac, finding myself mesmerized by the colors of sunrise reflected in an RV window. To the east, the sky it mirrored was still dusky violet. The sun, though up, had not yet cleared the treeline, leaving me to question how I’d seen what
I saw. A wise person said, “Let up a little on the wonder why, and give your heart a try.” So I put pen to paper and let it speak. It was cool to picture God with His Crayolas. The 128-pack including “sunrise” is only available in heaven. No sharpener; up there, crayons never grow dull.
AS THE SUNDAY PAPER
LIES ON THE DRIVEWAY,
FORGOTTEN
An early riser thrusts
His sunrise crayon
through a portal
in the copse to the east
coloring the camper’s
rear window
with a gleaming
pink-gold reflection
Framed just so,
it grabs my retinas,
focuses them
on a keyhole miracle,
the Divine Projectionist’s
sleight of beam,
just for me,
just for a moment
His dazzling epiphany
supplants my low purpose
with a higher one:
seeing the unseen,
grasping that these
impeccably aligned rays
offer a mirrored
self-portrait of God
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Just think, you didn’t have to drive anywhere in that RV to find a good sunrise.
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We’ve seen plenty of beautiful sunrises in our travels, Tippy, but this one was special. A reflection that had no source… or, rather, a divine source. It was one of those brushes with the unexplainable that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. When I went back out later to get the paper, it was gone. Doo-doo, doo-doo. 🙂
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Yes hallelujah’s all around us if we look
Thanks.
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That’s exactly it, Joyce. If we open our eyes, they are everywhere. Happy Sunday! 🙂
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What can I say, this is a beautiful prayer of gratitude and reminder of so many things to be grateful for. I love that movie for one metaphor. And all in your backyard! Beautiful!! Enjoy many more blessings today Joan.😊
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Thanks, Chevvy. Wonders happen every day, right under our noses. Events custom-made to fit together… the right thing being delivered to the right person at precisely the right time. It’s more than luck or chance or a trick of the light, it has to be. Blessings to you, too, today, this week, and always. 🙂
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🌹🌹🌹
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Beautiful Joan. There is such a divine peace in that gorgeous sunrise. It is true that wonders happen every day, and if we look closely we can surely see them. I agree it is more than luck or chance. I hope you have a terrific week ahead 😀
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Thanks, Lana. Be on the lookout for wonders, and I promise, you will start noticing them. Blessings to you in the week ahead. 🙂
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I shall be on the lookout! Blessings to you also, Joan! 😀
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I love the idea of God’s crayon box with its exclusive, as-yet-undiscovered colors. Maybe because I spent A LOT of time as a kid trying to imagine up a totally new color (yes, I was a weird child). The “sunrise” crayon color might just be one of the more mundane ones.
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Thanks, 227. I like the idea that you never have to sharpen them! A weird child? You??? When one of my nieces was about 6, I gave her a hat and scarf I’d made from that pastel yarn where one color merges into the next. She called me to tell me how much she liked it. “It’s my favorite color,” she said. “Rainbow.” 🙂
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Hello Joannie! Thank you for sharing your insights into “Hallelujah Moments” and the image of God with Crayola crayons! I once had a boss who criticized me for acting as if everything that happened was a “miracle”… he seemed to think that I should be more in control of my own destiny… not relying so much on “luck or good fortune”. He’s either in a mental hospital or prison now, so I’m feeling flattered just now looking back at all my “Hallelujah Moments” and the many, many blessings I have received over the years. It’s not just remarkable when you need something and it shows up, sometimes it’s equally remarkable when you need something and it doesn’t show up… only to find yourself blessed with an even better solution… and something you might never have dared hope for. A sunrise Crayola crayon, perhaps. Love you. Sharon
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Thanks, Sharon! I bet that boss is still just as much of a party pooper in prison or the looney bin–it must be hard to color with your hands in handcuffs or a straight jacket! God seems to always come through just in the nick of time. The part about not getting what you want, only to have an even better solution drop into your lap, is just another facet of God’s genius. Someone once compared heaven and earth with the two sides of a cross stitch–the earthly side doesn’t look pretty or make much sense, all full of criss-crossed strings and knots. But once we make it to the heavenly side, we can see the splendor of His design. So get out your “sunrise” thread and keep on stitching. Love and blessings to you, Sis. 🙂
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Thank you, Joan, for reminding us of the little and big miracles all around us! I believe it was Albert Einstein, who once said, ‘If we stop being amazed with all the wonders around us, we are as good as spiritually dead (not the exact words)’ Thank you too for your inspirational poem!
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Thanks, Peter. I guess even Einstein didn’t have it all figured out; maybe he hoped he never would, so wonders could continue to exist for him. May your week be filled with wonders and blessings. 🙂
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Beautiful poem Joan. The prologue reminds me of this (Einstein?) quote: There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.
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Thanks, KE. I love that quote. I’ll take “Everything is a Miracle” for $500, Alex. I bet the Daily Double is behind it. 🙂
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This. is. fabulous!!
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Glad you enjoyed it, Muri. 🙂
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Harvesting tomatoes this late in the season is indeed a miracle and how kind you were to share them with your neighbor!
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JRR, that post was old, from Aug 2017. I wish we were still harvesting tomatoes this late, but we had a freeze a few weeks ago. 🙂
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Duh, I’m such a lame brain! Though, I have had tomato plants that bore a tomato or two all winter long. They looked so forlorn as they took months to ripen.
I have a freezer full of last summer’s harvest. A freezer full of tomatoes, yellow, purple and red, gives me the same sense of security as a fragrant pile of compost. It’s stored energy.
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