Learning to see the miracles

I live in East Texas, and a miracle occurred here last night. It snowed. Not the “Hey it’s snowing outside look at the miniscule flakes because it’ll melt two seconds after hitting the ground” kind of snow, but the four inches of powder on the ground in the morning kind. I know, for everyone a few hours north of here, the above sounds silly. Snow in the north is like pine trees here…too common to be a wonder. But here it is a miracle of drastic proportions that shuts down schools and stops the world for a little while, causing wonder much on the same level as Christmas morning.

And I didn’t care. A friend texted me last night. “IT’S SNOWING!!!” I didn’t even get up and go look outside. I didn’t feel well. I’ve been sick for days and spent the vast majority of the last 24 hours sleeping off and on, mostly on, and doing little else. My thoughts centered on my misery, and when I heard the news of a miracle happening, I could not bring myself to care enough to even get up out of bed. Around four in the morning, I took a peak after having to get up for a restroom visit. The snow glistened in the moonlight, and the sight of my motorcycle in outline, completely covered in snow like a custom fitted canvas cover filled my heart with joy and awe, for a few seconds anyway. I wanted to take a picture, but the light at that time of morning is not well suited for photography. I told myself I would shoot the scene at sunrise.

Not longer after my resolution to capture this miracle through my passion for photography, I promptly fell back asleep and stayed in dreamland until about 11. So much for that idea. I went outside, and the scene still inspired, but much of the snow had already melted leaving the lower half of my Shadow visible. The opportunity had not passed completely, but the scene that inspired me no longer existed. I felt a moment of regret for not caring enough at the time to stay awake the two hours that would have enabled me to shoot the scene. I say photography is my passion, but my passion this morning could not override my self-pity and comfortable misery.

An hour later, I left the house. The land lay blanketed in white, but all too often, all I noticed was the decay. The water dripped from trees and rooftops as the snow melted. The snow on the road turned to slush and became brown as it mixed with mud. I saw the coming end of the miracle and the mess that would be left behind. I wanted to see the miracle. I wanted to feel that joy that lit up the eyes of those I encountered as they relived the memories of snow days past. I talked with a few people of the Storm of ‘83 like an old timer. But the awe of the day that everyone seemed to be feeling eluded me.

I realized my life has been much like that. I spent my life so self-centered and focused on my lack, my problems, the dreams I just knew would never come true, my pain, my my my. I lived this way so much it killed and overrode my passions. I found my enthusiasm, hope, and joy had expired like a special offer coupon discovered two days too late. I failed to see the wonder of so many miracles in my life. The few I did manage at the time the were occurring, failed to inspire awe for long. I quickly saw the decay, the shortcomings, the fleeting nature of anything good in my life. I knew the time would quickly come when the miracle would melt away leaving only nasty, brown sludge in it’s wake. Is it any wonder I never saw life worth living when I looked at it through eyes glazed over by scales of negativity. No wonder I needed any and every chance to escape the life I knew, felt and saw around me.

After thinking of these things a short while, I walked back outside and looked around with scale-free eyes. Beauty surrounded me. The miracle invaded my soul and reminded me that life is good, that even decaying miracles are better than none and can lift the spirit. There is hope to be found. Sure the snow will melt away, but one day, perhaps even in this decade, snow will fall and stick once again. I don’t need one big burning bush miracle to change my life. I just need to retrain myself to the see the beauty and power of the many little miracles that flow through my life on a frequent basis from my God who loves me and makes me capable of being moved by the beauty of life, even life filled with slush and the inconvenience of downed power lines.