Little Miracles

Sometimes, the most ordinary things turn into miracles.

I was cleaning up the meditation room, finally putting some of Don's things away and putting others up for adoption. To clear a space for the stuff I was making available to Don's friends, I moved a decorative plate from one bookshelf to another across the room. The plate was lavishly decorated in metalic and enamel finishes and rested in its own wooden display stand. It was a gift from Brian and Kent and had been given to us when they attended our union ceremony two years ago. But I wasn't really thinking about the plate; I was thinking about how I would arrange the knick knacks and sacred objects on the cleared bookshelf so I could take a picture of them to put up on the web site. I moved the plate to a spot on the other bookshelf where I thought it would look nice, and then turned my attention to the task at hand.

The next morning, I had just gotten out of bed and was going through the house, opening the doors to the rooms I usually close off at night. When I opened the door to the meditation room, I was dazzled by this sight:



I was astonished. The figure (which I had always thought was a version of Quan Yin) was glowing with light, and around it glowed a double halo, the rings of which stretched from wall to wall and across the ceiling and floor.



I sat down on the futon beside the bookcases and marveled at the sight for several minutes. The glow gradually faded, and as it did, I saw what produced it. The rising sun had streamed in the east-facing windows, struck the decorated plate on the bookshelf, and the plate's enamel and metalic finishes had filled the room with the enchanting light, exactly centered on the figure of Quan Yin.

All very pretty--but miraculous? Perhaps not. For the next few days, I got up at precisely the same time to enjoy the blessing of light in the room. But it did not last; each day, the angle of the sun shifted enough that it struck less and less of the plate as it rose. The nimbus and halos faded; by the end of the week, they were entirely gone.

So, what was the miracle? That I happened, just by accident, to place the plate in exactly the right place for it to spotlight the Quan Yin with the light of the rising sun? That I happened to do so in the brief, four-day window of time when the angle of the sun was just right? That I left the curtains open the night before so the sunlight would dazzle me when I opened the door the next morning? That this happened so close to the anniversary of our exchange of vows?

I do not know and do not care to know. I have received a blessing, yet another instance of grace, in the room I have dedicated to the remembrance and celebration of my beloved. That is miracle enough.