There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.
The latter is the case with me, and it rang even truer as I sat at a stoplight in Jasper.
The truck had been parked in the midday sun for over an hour and the cab of my truck was hot enough to bake a quiche.
Years ago when I bought my truck, I decided on a black one. Maybe I thought I’d look cool in it, but sitting there as the A/C struggled to make the air cool enough to breathe, and sweat trickling down my temples, I didn’t feel very cool.
The sun was still blazing, but off in the distance to the east, a bank of angry clouds flickered like a strobe light.
Just to the left of the bank of clouds was blue sky, and what’s more remarkable, a rainbow that stretched from horizon to horizon.
You'd think with as much rain as we've had this year, that rainbows would be a dime a dozen, but that hasn't been the case. Today was the first one I’d seen this year.
Is a rainbow a miracle of nature? I know there is a scientific explanation, but I still like to think of them as one of Mother Nature’s little miracles.
I don't take things like rainbows lightly, so when traffic thinned a little, I pulled to the side of the road, cranked down the window of my old truck, and snapped a picture with my iPhone.
People passing glared at me as if I'd intentionally run over a kitten.
I wanted to tell them, ‘Slow down, look at the rainbow.’ Maybe they saw it, and dismissed it as if it were a telemarketer calling during dinner. I’m guessing they’re in the camp that believes nothing is a miracle.
As I drove on toward home I thought about my friend that I’d been visiting at Ridgeview Health Services in Jasper.
He’s had so many brushes with death that he’s made the grim reaper gun shy.
He’s in therapy now, (my friend, not the grim reaper) but a few weeks ago we rushed to the hospital to see him when we got a call from his family saying that he was in bad shape.
When we arrived in the intensive care unit that night, he looked like death eating a cracker, as my mama used to say.
When we left that night, I expected the next call would be to tell us that he was gone.
Apparently his prayer warriors must have worked overtime because the next morning his wife called to say he was improving.
I’m guessing the Good Lord made him better to get all those folks off His back.
There are those who wouldn’t classify my friend’s recovery as a miracle, but it seemed that way to me.
As you may have guessed, I’m one of those people who looks at tiny hummingbirds flapping their wings almost a thousand times a minute, or watches what looks like a grub worm turn, in time, into a stunningly beautiful butterfly and says, there has to be miracles at work here.
That’s the way I choose to live my life.