The Miracle

The Music: Miracle Maker by Delirious?

The Words: The Miracle

Suddenly it doesn’t matter. Nothing does.

I had wanted so much more. For me. For them. For us.

Wanted. Longed For. Coveted and desired. Better this, more of that, a brighter future.

Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!

~Ecclesiastes 1

All at once, glancing at the little white cross, I knew… I am owed nothing.

Mushrooming overnight on the side of the freeway, the simple piece of wood had been adorned with a metal trinket, a silvery butterfly that caught the morning light prettily. Someone’s everything lay there, watery golden grass softly rippling around it. It seemed too lovely a sight to be the resting place of someone’s butterfly-soul.

Nothing matters.

There is a time for everything, and everything on earth has its special season.

~Ecclesiastes 3

Deep breath.
Toes digging into dry grass.
A locust flits roughly into my leg.
Whispy clouds obscure the sun.
A child’s laughter is carried on the wind.

It is all a miracle.
The sunshine, the air, a little bloody scratch on my leg, left there by a careless critter.
The birth of the butterfly soul. Her untimely departure.

It is all a miracle.

I am the miracle.

Dare I ask for more, but to look into the eyes of the Miracle Maker and utter, unworthily, “Thank you. I have tasted the waters of life. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”