I left my aunts house one night to visit my uncle from mom's side of the family. I felt a bit selfish leaving her house, however, the house was crowded with three children, a set of parents discussing something (dinner?) loudly in the back room, two dogs with a third dog outside, shivering against the cold without one of those sweater-y things. I wanted to cover him with one of my Goodwill purchased sweaters but he might croak from the stench that Goodwill uses with which to wash used clothing. The stench is almost not worth buying used sweaters. My aunt started discussing chicken tenders and frozen vegetables. I said "I'm going to call my uncle and see if he can have visitors." I texted his wife. She immediately phoned. I went to their house. Phewie. Close call.
People told me to pray for a miracle. 'Accept God into your heart and pray for a miracle.' And I said "Sometimes a miracle is (my) accepting that the definition of miracle is not the same as it once was."
Or something to that effect. I've given this a lot of thought.
|Not a stench-y sweater.|
In my heart is space for the God-of-Less-Suffering. There is also room in my heart to accept the evolution of what a miracle might look like at any given time, and my acceptance of this idea - I consider a miracle.