Miracle Moments from Katie
by Miracle Chasers on 09/21/12
“It’s a miracle!” we sometimes say without thinking - when a friend calls at just the right time, when you can feel shivers on your skin in the presence of a majestic sky at twilight, or maybe, when something more mysterious like the “miracle on the Hudson” occurs. I believe these “little” miracles are the glue that connects us to each other and to whatever is beyond us. Circumstances that intrigue, a bit of mystery in an ordinary day, keep us guessing and make every day an adventure. The only way I can believe in miracles is to believe they occur on a continuum from miniscule to magnificent, encompassing the universe with its untold energy, and that we exist fully in connection with this continuum. I didn’t always feel this way. There was a tightness I could feel in my soul, a judgment I imposed to every story I heard, and a lack of conviction to my faith as a result. I realized I had chased myself into a wall and part of my own miracle chase was to scale that wall to get a much broader view, a view captured by Elizabeth Barrett Browning who wrote,
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God
Interpreting life this way is good because you can always hope that a miracle, however teensy, is just around the corner, even when the corner is a literal one.
It is the middle of August and my daughter Laura and I are returning from a short mother-daughter hiatus up the seaboard, returning by way of Mystic, Connecticut. NYC is a couple of hours and change from Mystic but not on this day. The main freeway -95- is closed due to an accident. We traipse toward the coast with our fellow travelers to Route 1 - initially noticing the coastal scenery, opening the windows to the summer breeze, imagining ourselves in the quaint cottages dotting the inlets and harbors - and then remember our predicament as we continue to crawl along with the masses. When we are sure we are south of the problem, we go back to 95 only to hit another snag. We have traveled 20 miles in 2 hours, remind ourselves we are lucky we aren’t involved in the accidents, and say a silent prayer for the people that are. Still, frustration mounts as we continually alter our route only to be met by more traffic slog. Minor sniping with each other is involved:
Why can’t you just figure out iPhones, Mom? Laura says from the driver’s seat in a forced, even voice.
Why can’t you just trust ‘Jill’ (the GPS voice)? I reply, knowing full well that I am a device klutz and that swiping the screen of her iPhone with my clumsy hands is resulting in screens that will definitely not get us out of Podunk Connecticut.
We eventually give up on 95 and Route 1 and decide to make our way west over to 15, a bit out of our way and our trickiest navigational maneuver. Minor sniping turns to exasperation.
Mom, just look at the iPhone! It’s not that hard!! Laura is no longer pretending to be patient with me.
Laura, please, just give me a minute…Okay, never mind! Pull over. I’ll drive, you navigate…
Our 2 hour delay means we have hit NYC at dead on commute traffic height. We crawl some more. The sign flashes “Take alternate route, Yankee game traffic.” We both feel like we’ve fallen down the rabbit hole at this point, going on 5 hours. We’re hungry, we’re thirsty, we can’t agree on music. We are sick of each other’s generational righteousness.
By the time we get to the heart of the city, I am feeling pretty desperate for a parking place, because the thought of dropping off our things and then slogging down to our garage more than 30 blocks away is just beyond my tired soul at this moment. This calls for drastic measures - like calling upon my parking angel. I’m not sure if this is a prayer - I mean I really don’t believe God plays sports, which means she is definitely not going to be bothered with my traffic and parking issues. Then again, I don’t want to get technical, I just want a parking place.
As we keep our eyes peeled coming down Park Avenue where I have gotten lucky before, there is nothing, and I finally turn down our block resigned to my fate only to find a spot right in front of our building! A spot that is never available even on a good parking day.
Our sojourn had started as a final trip to move Laura and her new husband to Cambridge where she will attend business school. As I walked along the sidewalks of New York the next morning carrying something she had left in the car, I thought about the recent years we had been able to share in NYC. I will miss our spontaneous get-togethers, random meetings in the Park, and knowing she’s “around the corner.” I tried not to take it for granted. I knew, after all, what it was like having her 3000 miles away before we moved east. I thought about the sunset we shared in Newport, where we had stopped at a B and B for the night, our walk along Cliff Walk and reminiscing about her childhood over dinner.
“I think it’s about the integrity of your dreams, Mom, and sticking to them…” she had said.
I thought about how lucky I am to have her, how happy I am that she is able to follow her dreams. Love, the kind that aches, and a parking angel that comes through again…chasing, and finding miracles, twinkling in the morning light.
