M.'s Miracle

I said good morning to M. and asked if he would like a song sheet.  He gently answered, "No thank you. I no longer read. My eyesight is too poor."  His appearance is of a quiet, composed man.  I asked him if he liked hymns, and he replied that yes, he did find some of them quite beautiful.  I told him that he would probably be familiar with what we would be singing and that I was glad he was with us.  

Afterwards, as I was collecting the sheets and talking with some of those gathered around us, I asked M. if he knew the hymns we sang.  He replied that yes, he knew most.  He looked at me and asked, "Do you believe in miracles?"  I love that question because it opens the gate to what is usually an intriguing conversation.  

"On, yes," I answered.  "Do you?"   

He quietly asked if he could tell me a story.  When he was a young man he spent three years stationed in the Arctic.  "This was back in the time of the Cold War and we were wary of what the Russians might be up to. One day I went out to check on some equipment.  I made the mistake of turning off the vehicle which we were not supposed to do.  When I returned to it, it would not start, so I needed to walk back to where we were staying.  As I walked, I looked behind me to my left. I saw a wolf.  I then looked behind me to the right, and saw two more.  Well, there was nothing to do but to keep walking.  Running seemed foolish and there was no place to hide.  I walked on, convinced that my life was over.  Yet, to my surprise, I arrived safely at my door.  I looked around again, and there was not a wolf in sight. I believe that was a miracle.  God was with me."      

If I could paint, I would paint an image of a man walking through snow and ice accompanied by curious wolves.  Our interpretations of miracles vary.  Yet, anytime we learn to calmly walk with our fears seems to me to be the biggest miracle of all.  When we completely accept where we are, then there is room for God.  Even in the vastness of the Arctic, we must make room.  

 

I look forward to hearing more of M.'s miracles. 

  

photograph:  San Leandro, February 2020