Little Miracles Here and There
There’s the saying that there are little miracles all around you, the question is whether or not you notice them.
Have you heard that?
Being all pro-carpe diem and stuff, I’ve always tried to notice such things. I often find them on my lunchtime sun runs along the half-frozen Yukon River, or in the genuine, warm husband hugs, and more often these days, in delicious food. (Christmas baking done right is certainly a little miracle)
In my job I get to neet different people all the time and learn about something different every day. This variety totally helps me to recognize what’s special, beautiful and a little miracle in its own way. That way I don’t have to rely on saying babies, sun rises, rainbows are the only miraces I see. Plus, those things get a little less miracle-y after a while. I have to find new thigns to keep my miracle list spicy and interesting.
Speaking of spices...add garlic to my little miracle list. Mmm mm I could put that on near anything, I tell you.
Today’s little miracle came in the form of a fiftysomething dude I interviewed a while back.
I had talked with him about his crazy drug past for a feature series I was writing on the world of drug addiction. This guy was my main character, so to speak, and he willingly let me in to his colourful past. We had sat in a coffee shop while he poured out some of his darkest secrets. I was a stranger with a pen and a paper pad and he really didn’t have to do that. I was incredibly grateful he did, and with such honesty.
The paper published my series and I didn’t get much feedback from anyone, but that’s the norm in this town. I was a little worried I hadn’t heard from this man, though. I had changed his name and some identifying detaisl, but still, I was worried he’d hated it and more importantly me, for exposing such truths.
He called me and we set up a lunch coffee date at the same place, so he could tell me what he thought of the story. He also said he had something for me and let me know he was very impressed, so I went to the coffee house without nerves or jitters.
I’m scared I’m going to cry writing this. Crap, I’m at work and they’ll all think I’m nuts.
This man told me what a wonderful job I’d done. He went into y story layout and organization telling me why he thought it worked. He told me some of the things I wrote were really hard for him to read, and he was surprised at how much he had told me.
“I want you to know you did a really good job, and I think it’ll really help people understand what it is we go through,” he said. That was exactly what I was trying to do, without exploiting his or anyone else’s stories, and without dramatizing the struggle addicts and their overseeing mentors go through.
“You’re very good,” he said. He presented me with a copy of his favourite bok, one he said got him through some tough times. I remember “The Four Agreement” by Don Miguel Ruiz froom I think Oprah’s book list and then I just never got around to reading it. I currently am almost done “Love in the Time of Cholera” and have two more waiting, but this man’s super kind gesture puts “Agreements” in the next slot.
I’ve always thought books were among the best kind of gifts one can give. I started that with my sister, but grew a bit discouraged as the copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” with little notes all through it and “The Lovely Bnes” sit untouched in her room.
That he would give me that book after already giving me so much, treating me with honest conversation and insight into higher understanding, that is my little mriacle of today.
That and husband hugs, those never get boring or repetitive.