The Miracle

It happens every year about this time. The jumble of boxes and bins emerges from storage, and out come lights and stockings
and decorations of all kinds. And the mug. It’s a plain-looking mug with a delicate angel painted on, but it bears a message that
never fails to provoke a behavioral response in me: “Don’t Waste the Miracle.”
Each year it causes me to pause and think about this life that I’ve been given, about
what a true miracle it is, even in its ragged condition. I theorize that, since I do have life
and it is a marvel, and I also have ailments of many kinds, then the miracle of life isn’t
about perfection or wholeness or wellness. The realization that I’ve come to is this: the
simple thing I have—my life/my heart/my love—is given to me so I might give it to
others. So I, who carry such a precious wonder, have a responsibility to share and
not squander it, despite the fear and cynicism that this chronic illness brings.
Even through the bad days and the slightly less bad days, I think it’s important to
bestow encouragement or at least, a bit of civility, to others. Is it easy? Not usually.
But anything worthwhile is never easy.

If I could, I would give a cup like mine to each of you this season. Maybe its message
would prompt some marvelous acts of kindness that would bring this rough year to
a gentle close.

[This was originally printed in the Multiple Sclerosis Resources of CNY newsletter recently. See

address on sidebar.]

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