1 Corinthians 12:10 To another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; to another discerning of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues; to another the interpretation of tongues:
John 4:48 Then said Jesus unto him, Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe.
2 Corinthians 12:12 Truly the signs of an apostle were wrought among you in all patients, in signs, and wonders, and mighty deeds.
When is a miracle a miracle, and when is it a figment of our imagination?
Several miracles have happened to me in my lifetime. It’s irrelevant to me whether they are believed by others or not, because it matters not. The moments pass, and what carries us at the time with unexplainable adrenalin, at having seen beyond the reality of life, over time eventually slips back into a worldly rhythm, and becomes just another extraordinary memory. But one that at the time is so believable, it feels never ridiculous to convince others, of what has taken place. Its only later, weeks months years later, that you recoil at the sense of the utter senselessness, and of the sometimes patronising “I’m glad that’s what you think you saw” response that people offered at the time as a consolation. However what they do not see is, that consolations are not required by someone who has been touched by such amazing happenings, and so at the time their reaction hardly matters at all.
When is a miracle a miracle, and when is it just a coincidence? The fact that when we knock on the door it is bound to be opened for us, maybe it could be said, that it is with the same eyes that we see miracles….but I don’t think so. Miracles least come when we consciously need them to. They rarely come when we desperately want them to, and sometimes we can pray for a miracle with our whole being, and what hope can there be when we are denied. Miracles are miraculous because at the time they seemingly happen
at earthly random spontaneous moments (though maybe on reflection, not so random) with incredible clarity, they transform the unbelievable into the believable. They transgress our reasoning, by allowing us the audacity and time to question what has tangibly happened and to reject our questioning over the reality of our sensory experience.
I have always recorded my miraculous experiences and extreme coincidences in my diary, and later all together side by side in “my little book of miracles”. Being a forty something adult, this probably seems completely child like, or juvenile and twee. In fact when I read them back to myself, they don’t sound very much better either, mostly as they were only recorded for my own benefit, briefly and shortly after they were experienced, just to remind me, and are not written up with the same due care and attention of language, that one chooses to use when writing a letter, an essay or blog etc. To others they would only hold the attention span of someone longing maybe for sentimental reassurance or hope. But for me, they are my personally recorded tangible witness of glimpses of another world, spied through mystical portals which no sooner reveal themselves, as do they disappear.
Why is all this important today? Because in a world where we are sometimes let down and deeply hurt by those whom we Love the most. In a world where it sometimes is difficult to see which way up Heaven is. In a world where sometimes we just want to walk away from the single track before us. It just reminds us that at any moment in time, the mundane can transform into the miraculous, and restore the faith we had, before somebody or something broke it for us. A portal that proves that which ever way we are, it’s the way where He can still reach us. A little window where God peeps through and says ‘Im very clearly still here, tangible’.
Some of The Little Miracles in my life
When my next door neighbour died I saw most clearly angels wings reflected on the window of their house. The side window opposite my kitchen window is their garden room, overlooking their back garden. The curtains were drawn. I was so convinced of the shape of what I saw reflected that I asked my husband what he could see. He believes in nothing supernatural what so ever and laughed at me, but when we tried to take a digital picture, our camera would not pick up the image which we could see with the naked eye. We knew our neighbour was very poorly and throughout the day we both kept going back to that reflection, it was there all day long, slightly opaque in texture, we thought possibly condensation, but not on further inspection. Even my husband was amused and baffled at what appeared to be a reflection.
Late afternoon there was a knock at the door and the daughter had called to say that our neighbour had passed away, I told her that I already knew, as I had seen angels wings reflected on the side window and that suddenly they were gone. It turned out that the window had been the room, which had been prepared for our poorly neighbour to spend the last few weeks of her life in, and the room where she had died. I would have been mad to have enthusiastically shared this story with a women grieving over the very present loss of her mother, and I too was desperately sad, but I was so sure of what I had seen, that at the time in my excitement it only seemed appropriate that I should have shared such a miracle.
Below I have copy and pasted from my old blog the miracles exactly as recorded in my “little book of miracles” as I said before the writing is very poor.
“Miracles, in the sense of phenomena we cannot explain, surround us on every hand: Life itself is the miracle of miracles”
George Bernard Shaw
This is my Last Born, a miracle inside my womb, at 21 weeks of pregnancy