Today I started reading the book, Make Miracles in Forty Days. The author asks that we make a list of miracles we’ve seen. I’ve thought about this, but the only real miracle I can think of is children. As a person, an adult, it’s miraculous to me that children ever come into our lives. And it isn’t just the “miracle of birth”, though that’s pretty miraculous. It’s that there are children at all. Regardless of how they come into our lives – birth, adoption, osmosis – it seems somewhat miraculous to me that they are here. That I am their “leader”; that they learn from me; that who they become is, in large part, based on what I teach them, what I show them. When I was younger, the miracle of children was based on the incredible biology of two people creating one new, separate being. Later, I realized that there was also a miracle in being granted the responsibility of being given a child to raise. And, still later, I learned that a similar miracle happens when a child chooses you. Have I seen other miracles? I can’t wrap my thoughts around any others right now, but the sounds of laughter and teasing coming from my kitchen, as several of my miracles clean the dinner dishes, is pretty miraculous in itself.