Gifts and Small Miracles

I will not die an unlived life

I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible;

to loosen my heart

until it becomes a wing,

a torch a promise.

I choose to risk my significance,

to live so that which came to me as a seed

goes next as a blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

Dawna Markova

The gift of my mother's diagnosis has been to explode my consciousness about the preciousness of the time we have. I've been trying to mold the clay of life into something new over the last couple of years. The diagnosis is the catalyst that is making me stop trying and now began doing.

The poem above came to me last week as another gift and I ordered the book that about the poem. Today the book arrived. When I had gone to my PO Box, there was a slip telling me I I had to go into the main body of the post office to retrieve it. It had been a long day and I was debating whether to go into get it as there were long lines. A postal employee opened a door saw me standing there with yellow pick up slip in hand and she if she could get the package for me. Gratefully I surrendered the slip to her. When she came back I told her she was my gift and little miracle today. In six years of having my PO Box, I have never had anyone open that door during business hours. She look startled and then thanked me saying that I had made her day on a tough day.

So gifts and miracles do happen, we just have to be accessible for them to arrive.

Jim Brickman and Martina McBride, "The Gift":