In my blog post “The Opportunity of Death” I wrote about having to have my ovaries removed. I had a big, fat, oily cyst on one of my ovaries. I was told it was a dermoid cyst, which may have hair, eyes, sweat glands, and teeth. I named it Harold, after one of my favorite movies, Harold and Maude. Maude was my ovary, and Harold was surrounding her embodied as a cyst that was oily, hairy, and possibly had teeth. The kid who played Harold in the movie wasn’t that bad looking, but this was my Harold, and he was ugly. My surgery was scheduled for March 5, and I was as ready as I was ever going to be to have my ovaries removed. And then a miracle happened: My surgeon broke her arm riding a bike. When I got the call that the surgery was canceled because the doctor broke her arm I was thinking, “No! This can’t be happening to me!” The office secretary made it clear that the doctor was not making any plans for future surgeries at this time. “No!” I needed Harold taken out! What was the doctor doing riding her bike! She’s a surgeon; she can’t just go bike riding! I thought to myself, yelled in the car, told everyone who would listen (for example, the cashiers at Safeway). After a couple weeks of trying to figure out what the heck am I supposed to do in this situation, I found another surgeon and scheduled an appointment, which took another three weeks.
The new surgeon checked me out and told me the cyst had shrunk. That meant it was going to go away on its own and I didn’t need surgery. It wasn't a dermoid cyst afer all! It was an amazing turn of events that left me whole! No surgery! I get to keep what I have! It was a miracle! Goodbye Harold! I could have lifted off into the clouds I was so light and happy, but it was more than just feeling fortunate: It was feeling that I was being guided. It’s not like the kind of guidance you get on a tour in Muir Woods, “You’ll notice it is very quiet in the forest because there are no birds. Since the Coastal Redwood trees, the tallest trees in the world, shade the forest floor, flora cannot grow, and birds are attracted to flora, so no flora, no birds.” It’s the kind of guidance that left me in awe. How did all of these unrelated events occur to make this one outcome? And how was it that this outcome was the best for me? Who am I in this great, big world to be graced with so many twists and turns and still end up where I was supposed to be? I don’t know, and I like it that way.
We all like to think we have a certain control over life, but we don’t. We don’t have any control at all really, and nothing makes you more aware of that than an illness, or cancer, or having something removed from your body… You might think that it is bad to have those types of troubles, but it is our troubles that help us find the strength in ourselves to overcome, even when we don’t think we have any strength. You realize that there’s something greater in the world than you and your tiny trouble. Whether you believe in God or Buddah or Allah it makes no difference, because we are all connected in some way, and miracles are a pathway that lead us when we least know where to go. Webster’s defines miracle (noun) as a wonder, marvel, an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs.
They connect us with something bigger than ourselves, with the greatness in ourselves, the world we live in, the spiritual world, and the unknown, even the unimaginable. I’d like more of those experiences. And after that event, I started having them, again and again.
I was hiking in Deer Park in Fairfax when I met a woman and her dog on a trail. She was wearing those shoes that make your butt and thighs look better, which I desperately want for myself, so I asked her about them. While we were walking and talking, we both would kick her dog’s tennis ball so he’d run ahead and bring it back. She told me that she had lost her car keys while hiking. She lived nearby and she was going to walk home and ask her husband to help. I wanted to offer to give her a ride, but her dog was pretty dirty. Our heads were down most of the time kicking the ball to her dog. At the gate to get back to what used to be Deer Park School, I looked up and there were keys on top of the post. “Are those your keys?” They were. I felt like we had been guided by something divine that lead us to talk walk, and find her keys and someone else was guided to put them right there, where we almost didn’t see them. Now she could get home, and back to her life. It was amazing.
On another hike, this time at Limantour Beach in Point Reyes, I came upon a small harbor seal with a pink streak of spray paint on its forehead. It was making its way to the bluffs, far away from the water. There’s no cell phone service there, and the pay phone at the parking lot didn’t work, so I drove back to town. On the way, a young man waved to me to pick him up. His car broken down and he needed a ride home to get help. I picked him up, drove him home, just a few miles away, called 911 about the seal, and they connected me to the Marine Mammal center in Sausalito. I was going to meet someone from the Center back at the beach to show her where the seal was, although I had also given her a description of where it was, but the beach is over 3 miles. After the long drive over the hill to the beach, I couldn’t find her, so I drove back into town. On my voice mail was a message that the woman had found the seal, and she thanked me for her help. I felt like, I didn’t plan any of this, and yet I’m some type of tool being used for a higher purpose to help a seal and a young man whose car broke down. I felt more lit up than a Christmas tree. I was high on happiness, on just plain joy from feeling connected with the world that I was a part of.
The weeks went on and more miracles – I quickly stopped on Highway 4 when I saw a woman walking away from her broken down car. I saw her car, her with a bag in her hand, and I just thought, “I have got to help her!” She was so grateful! I was just running errands on a Saturday; in the right place at the right time. Miracles!
I don’t know how you can create a miracle. I think you have to be open to receiving them. Prayers have helped heal people, which is one way miracles work. This week at church the pastor talked about how God is only a prayer away. Maybe a miracle is a divine spirit’s prayer for you. I know that they are a gift of realization that I am significant, and bring meaning to the grand scheme of life that I am part of. They also bring me awareness that there is guidance in every moment. For me it is also a feeling of awe in knowing that you can’t know everything, and that from even what we do know, is all a mystery. Just because we can name a tree a Coast Redwood, doesn’t mean we know it. The trees in Muir Woods, the harbor seals at Limantour Beach, all have a life of their own. A life we can’t even imagine. I think there’s a place in awareness between appreciating the magnificence of all life, from birds to flora, to harbor seals, to humans, and allowing ourselves just to be in awe, and letting go of the walls that surround us, and the fears that keep us from being really whole, then there’s a moment of grace, when a power greater than ourselves touches us without words, without sound, and guides us to a place that is right, and in that moment we understand the immense beauty, love, joy, delight, awesomeness that is life. That’s a how I would describe a miracle. They happen all around us every day. However they come about, for whatever reason they occur, I have a request for any divine spirit who is listening, please send me more!
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