A holiday miracle on the way to town

Today I was driving on the narrow country road that leads from my house to town, when I came upon an elderly neighbor walking toward me on his morning jaunt.

Just as I was pulling to the left to give him a wide berth, a large fuel truck heading the opposite direction came into view. We both stopped, and then the truck driver signaled for me to go ahead, while he waited. The neighbor, the truck driver, and I all waved to each other as we went on our way.

A nothing story. These little scenarios happen all the time. But for me, this morning, it was a miracle of human cooperation. As a whole, we humans work so well together.

It’s easy to get discouraged by all the stories we hear about people not getting along. But for the most part, we do a pretty good job of making space for each other. Even beyond that: Most of us are caring and conscientious. We want to do the right thing. It matters to us how we move through this world and the impact we make.

Just in the nick of time

I’ve been worried that I might not be able to get into the holiday spirit in time for the holidays. This happens to me every few years. I do all the things, because I love everything about the holidays — the music, the lights, the food, the festivities. But my mind is cluttered. I don’t get to the inner layers of the onion to find real meaning.

The end of the year and the start of the next should be like that space between a deep exhale and the intake of the next breath. When our body and mind are so still that we can feel our heart beating. In this space between breaths, we are fully present to the here and now, while at the same time aware of our part in something greater. We are both whole and part of the whole.

This moment of inspiration on my morning drive was a relief. We’re barely into December, and I already felt that first jolt of holiday joy.

It was a reminder that if I keep my eyes peeled for the miracle, I’ll find it. And usually in the most mundane, everyday situations. Because it’s all a miracle, really.

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Moving on just in time for the New Year

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My future self wanted a different Christmas tree