What Miracles Have Happened in Your Life?

What miracles have happened in your life? I'll get the magic rolling by mentioning several miracles in my life. First, falling in love with my soulmate and marrying her. Life for me could have turned out so differently and poorly had I not married Marilyn...Secondly, adopting Mary Lou was a miracle. It was meant to be. We picked her up from Catholic Charities on April 8, 1971 at 10:30 am. Exactly two years later at 10:31 April Marie was born, another miracle. Both girls were meant to be in our lives. Thirdly our oldest grandson needed a liver transplant and after a very long wait one came his way miraculously saving his life. That was four years ago. So, those are three miracles in our lives. There were more, but not quite as big as those.

The story ahead is about a miracle. You probably read it before on the Internet....This has been around for several years, but deserves, no requires, a re-issue at this happy and HOLY time of year. GOD BLESS!!

A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a glass jelly jar from its hiding place in the closet.

She poured the change out on the floor and counted it carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No chance here for mistakes.

Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twisting on the cap, she slipped out the back door and made her way 6 blocks to Rexall's Drug Store with the big red Indian Chief sign above the door.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to give her some attention, but he was too busy at this moment.

Tess twisted her feet to make a scuffing noise. Nothing... She cleared her throat with the most disgusting sound she could muster. No good Finally she took a quarter from her jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!

'And what do you want?' the pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of voice.. I'm talking to my brother from Chicago whom I haven't se en in ages,' he said without waiting for a reply to his question.

'Well, I want to talk to you about my brother,' Tess answered back in the same annoyed tone.. 'He's really, really sick ... and I want to buy a miracle.'

'I beg your pardon?' said the pharmacist.

'His name is Andrew and he has something bad growing inside his head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save him now. So how much does a miracle cost?'

'We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help you,' the pharmacist said, softening a little.

'Listen, I have the money to pay for it. If it isn't enough, I will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs..'

The pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man He stooped down and asked the little girl, 'What kind of a miracle does your brother need?'

'I don't know,' Tess replied with her eyes welling up. I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation... But my Daddy can't pay for it, so I want to use my money.'

'How much do you have?' asked the man from Chicago

'One dollar and eleven cents,' Tess answered barely audibly

'And it's all the money I have, but I can get some more if I need to.'

'Well, what a coincidence,' smiled he man. 'A dollar and eleven cents---the exact price of a miracle for little brothers. '

He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her mitten and said 'Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need.'

That well dressed man was Dr Carlton Armstrong, a surgeon, specializing in neuro-surgery. The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Andrew was home again and doing well.

Mom and Dad were happily talking about the chain of events that had led them to this place.

'That surgery,' her Mom whispered. 'was a real miracle I wonder how much it would have cost?'

Tess smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost..one dollar and eleven cents....plus the faith of a little child.

In our lives, we never know how many miracles we will need.

A miracle is not the suspension of natural law, but the operation of a higher law.

I know you'll keep the ball moving!

Here it goes. Throw it back to someone who means something to you!

A ball is a circle, no beginning, no end. It keeps us together like our Circle of Friends. But the treasure inside for you to see is the treasure of friendship you've granted to me.

Today I pass the friendship ball to you.

Pass it on to someone who is a friend to you.

MY OATH TO YOU...

When you are sad.....I will dry your tears.

When you are scared....I will comfort your fears..

When you are worried......I will give you hope.

When you are confused......I will help you cope.

And when you are lost .... And can't see the light, I shall be your beacon .... Shining ever so bright.

This is my oath ..... I pledge till the end.

Why you may ask? .... Because you're my friend.

Signed: GOD

Do You Want to Be Famous?

Do you want to be famous? Do you want to be a famous star? On the silver screen? On stage? On TV? In what context do you want to be famous in? I really like the following poem. As for me, I want to be famous in the eyes of my wife and children. More simply, I want to to be loved like a buttonhole...

Famous

by

Naomi Shihab Nye

The river is famous to the fish.



The loud voice is famous to silence,

which knew it would inherit the earth

before anybody said so.



The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds

watching him from the birdhouse.



The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.



The idea you carry close to your bosom

is famous to your bosom.



The boot is famous to the earth,

more famous than the dress shoe,

which is famous only to floors.



The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it

and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.



I want to be famous to shuffling men

who smile while crossing streets,

sticky children in grocery lines,

famous as the one who smiled back.



I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,

or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,

but because it never forgot what it could do.



From Words Under the Words: Selected Poems (Portland, Oregon: Far Corner Books, 1995).

Copyright © 1995 by Naomi Shihab Nye.

Not Me!

Poets need lots of rest so that they can reflect on the human condition, daydream about making life better, and challenge their grandkids in wii. But they don't nap. This is not me. I don't care what you say. This is not me. It's not even a poor sketch of me. I have more hair...I think...My belly isn't quite that round. My glasses aren't perfectly round.  I don't nap. I don't snore. This in not me. I am not in denial. This is not me. Did I tell you? This is not me. I get a solid eight hours of sleep every night. I kid you not. This is not me. I don't nap. I hardly ever get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom. I have an awesome bladder. I sleep like a rock because I don't nap. I don't own a rocking chair. My wife does. She owns a Lincoln rocker. I own a recliner. But I don't nap...zzz....zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...zzz...

We Are Born with Wings

"Each of us was born with wings and has the ability to go farther than we ever thought possible, to do things beyond our wildest imaginings" 

Barbara Stanny

Drop Crayons on Them!

Okay, I am driving along and I see a bumpersticker that says, "Make Bread, Not War." I thought that was clever. I think Robert Fulghum has the right idea too. What follows almost sounds like a prose poem. I love the imagery too...Yes, this sould be the next secret weapon of choice... "Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."

"I like Joe Sottile's Football Poem Right Here!"

WAITING TO SEE THE PRINCIPAL AND OTHER POEMS