Am I missing something?

Suddenly, they're everywhere I look. It seems that in the past few weeks, I've been captured by stories, events, a little anecdote here and there reminding me of miracles. For that matter, the gospel readings as of late have been heavily focused on the miracles of Jesus. Even my kids are getting into the act. For example, my almost-four-year-old, CB, is suddenly eating EVERYTHING again! This is no small feat when one considers that about 3 months ago, after a bout with a nasty stomach bug she was eating what her Uncle N referred to as the "prison diet"; which is to say only bread and water.

In a very personal and much more profound way, all of these stories found their way into my heart recently, which is perhaps, a miracle in and of itself. In the story of the autistic, young adult woman, whose family witnessed miraculous changes in her life, her mother speaks profoundly about the opportunities given to families in situations that seem full of unknowns, full of sadness or full of loneliness. She says,

"How often do you get to see the hand of God at work?" Jane said.
"To be there to see it happen is a privilege. And miracles aren't really big, loud things. They sort of sneak up on you and afterwards, God touches you on the shoulder and says 'See?'"

Look back on their stories or look back on your own; we all have one, of that I am sure. It's in pushing past the *big things* and looking, as this mother says, at the little things that we see them. How big the big things seem, but, truly, when you get right down to it, how miraculous are the small things.

In one of my favorite movies, Millions, a young boy dealing with his own *big thing* finds solace in the small nudges and winks he gets from God. The most touching scene is a brief reunion with the little boy and his mother where the reality of ordinary, everyday miracles are revealed.

Tomorrow is Saint Gianna Beretta Molla's feast day. An otherwise ordinary woman: wife, mother, and doctor who saw, through her great love for God, that even through the unknown, even during the sadness, even in the deep sense of loneliness that miracles were (and still are!) happening.