Tonight I opened the back door to shake the dried mud off the rug and I heard a chorus of bird song. A miracle, I thought! And then I thought: no, the birds didn't start the second I opened the door. No, the birds have been singing for a while now and I have only now noticed.
Perhaps miracles are unfolding all around me and I think they are sudden because I suddenly tune in? Maybe the kind of biblical miracle where Jesus snapped his fingers and a crippled man could suddenly walk don't happen anymore. Maybe we've got it the other way round now: the miracles are gradual and our notice is sudden.
I think of these things, the muddy floor and rug because the yard is thawing and the children are playing like wild things. The candle that we light in the dark morning now, while I type these words in the bright evening, when formerly there was darkness by 5 o'clock. Birdsong and pale green shoots and water running everywhere from the dirty snow dissolving.
Well, hallelujah, winter is passing and spring is upon us! Bring on the miracles.