I believe in miracles—
Maybe not loaves and fishes
but perhaps the same $25 passed around a circle of friends
feeding dozens over time.

I believe in miracles—
Maybe not God,
but the gift of liberation

I believe in miracles—
Maybe not pure joy,
but the miracle of grief unburdened by regret.

I believe in miracles—
Maybe not angels in white robes coming down from the heavens,
but teachers in well-loved cardigans
sharing the language of poetry with children for the very first time.

I believe in miracles—
Maybe not illnesses healed or kings surrendered,
but families repaired and addictions conquered.

I believe in miracles—
The way I believe a paycheck can stretch like Hanukkah oil,
how “just like Mom used to make”
never tastes like pinched pennies,
only Love.

I believe in miracles—
Not darkness conquered,
but the womb revisited.

I believe in miracles—
Perhaps not the act of creation,
but more like the experience of it all—
The miracle of a spectacular sunrise,
a funeral sprinkled with laughter.

I believe in miracles—
Perhaps not in resurrection,
but of course I believe in Springtime.
I know who in the garden is just resting a spell
and who has already gone home.

Spirit of Life and Love,
may we offer our humble, if not sometimes begrudging, gratitude
for the miracle of moments taken for granted—
For minutes that feel like hours,
for the miracle of mountain tops and coral reefs,
the miracle of survival and ancient olive trees—

We offer our awestruck, gob-smacked, jaw-dropping wonder for
the miracle of every single child,
the miracle of vulnerable individuals
kept safe by their communities for all recorded time.

May we offer a whole-hearted AMEN of affirmation
for the miracle of store-bought serotonin,
the miracle of mental healthcare,
the miracle of call to service,
and of those who answer the call.

Thank you, Godde,
for the miracle of
Noticing—
The miracle of
Being known.

Blessed Be.