Miracles

On this upcoming Sunday twelve years ago I stood in the pulpit of the Richmond Hill United Methodist Church and preached my last sermon as an active working preacher.  A few days later on what is called moving day, I moved from the parish to the farm, from the work of the church to the work of the farm, from a life of dancing with the calendar to a life of dancing with retirement.  Twelve years may not be a long time for some, but for a guy who has moved quite a bit during the course of life, it is a long, long time.     

One of my appointments was nine years long and the next was ten, so twelve years in one place is a record that is moving toward a bigger number.  During the course of these retirement years I have learned what it means to live in a world of  miracles.  Actually, the great awareness of miracles came along the way when it suddenly dawned on me that every day has not within a miracle, but is instead full of miracles.  Every day is a day to walk into a new unfolding miracles.  

Chief among the long list of miracles experienced is the awareness that not a single one of these last twelve years has been like any other day.  No day has had the same morning serenade from the trees, no evening has had the same sunset, and every thing seen today was different yesterday and will be even more different tomorrow.  And as amazing as these miracles of creation have become, the one of holy revelation and presence is even more amazing.  Not a single day passes without some awareness of holy presence and some opportunity to hear the holy voice spoken.  If I miss these daily moments of divine grace, it speaks more of my failure to pay attention than the Creator's intent to make Himself known.