Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see.”
I thought the birds deserved a special treat on this snowy morning so I drizzled some honey on the rolls I baked last night and I’m getting a giggle watching their feet stick to the plate. Some days life is just a giggle. I’ve been assigning myself the task of finding a miracle in every single day and my miracle yesterday was giggling back and forth on the phone with my grandson yesterday when we were discussing his Christmas list. He wants a Dr. Dreadful Zombie Lab which is bad enough but what set us off giggling was the accessory toy, Dr. Dreadful’s Snot Shot and Wax Snax kit. I’ve got to get those for him, it will drive his parents crazy.
What a miracle to be able to be silly and giggly without drinking. I used to think only drunk Grandma could do that.
The other task I’ve assigned myself is a little more difficult, at least it is more difficult to discern. I’ve set myself to creating a miracle every day. Sometimes my miracles are planned and orchestrated but sometimes, like yesterday when I was tired and cranky, it’s kind of up to my miracles to start the creation process on their own and only when I glance back looking for them and they show themselves, am I able to imagine them into the miracles they could be.
Let me try to explain. This morning when I sat down to write my morning pages, I went in search of any trace of miracles I might have caused yesterday. I thought about my congratulatory response to a friend of mine on the mmabser's message board who had announced her one year sobriety anniversary, but, in all actuality, my congratulations was just acknowledgement of the miracles that she has wrought in my and so many other’s recovery with her zany wit and no bullshit counsel. You are a guitar destroying rock star, Lulu.
Then I thought about the 144 princess dolls, 50 sock monkeys and 50 pounds of Play-doh I packed for their trip south to be part of our little village’s toy drive. Each one them a little miracle for a child whose parents won’t be able to afford anything else this year and I am so thankful to be a part of this that it too makes me feel as if I am on the receiving end of these tiny miracles that I am packing so carefully.
Then I thought about the request that I put on the toy drive facebook page asking for volunteer “elves” to help us with an upcoming fundraiser and I remembered when a woman named Star, (yes, that is her real name. Kind of symbolic, huh?) asked me to help with the toy drive. I was new to the expat community, and I so badly wanted to start anew, to become known for something other than being able to drink 20 sailors under the table, to be respected. That extension of trust from Star, her willingness to see through my jolly drunk façade, saved my life because the toy drive became one more thing, or 900 little things (kids) I needed to get sober for.
So maybe I didn’t start that miracle either but yesterday I passed it on. Maybe someone will grab it and use it as a lifeline like I did.
I wrote a letter to Star early this morning to thank her. Maybe that will be her miracle for the day…or maybe she’ll think, “Old Kary must be hitting the bottle early this morning.” LOL
Get on out there now and find your miracle for today and start a few of your own. If you keep yourself busy miracle making, you’ll be too busy to drink.
So today I’m just out there doing my best to dream up some more miracles and keep finding something giggle worthy. Maybe I'll order me the Dr. Dreadful Scabs and Guts Game. See! It works, just typing that made me giggle.