As I was pulling out of the parking lot on my way home this evening, I saw a bumper sticker that said something about praying for peace. Now this made me consider what a lazy society this world houses. Now, don't get me wrong...I do believe in prayer and have seen prayers answered many times in my life. But a miracle, asked for on a bumper sticker struck me as "whining". Why, you ask? Because...I see it as asking God to do a task that we can do for ourselves by simply doing what we have been instructed to do by that same God, Buddha, Muhammad or Superior Being each of us claim to belief in. The message from each Deity is the same for all of mankind who make up the family of the Earth. That is, to love one another unconditionally, respect our differences, be non-judgemental and offer our hands in help. If each of us would expend just a little energy, every day, to do this......................THAT WOULD BE A MIRACLE! The World would be at peace. This brings me to a little miracle that happened to me when I was 14 years old.
My Mom, Beth, was a very compassionate, empathic and loving woman. After my Father died in 1951, Mom was left with very close to nothing, except 8 hungry kids to feed, house and clothe. She had been a wife and mother since her Senior year in high school, possessing no special skills that would gain her the employment needed to support her family. So, after a year of scrubbing floors, caring for home bound Seniors, taking in ironing, or other odd jobs that would bring home the bacon, she took a gigantic leap, entering Nursing school to become an LPN. After graduation, she landed a job at a local hospital doing what she loved and expected of herself, earning a living that kept us all together and surviving. After a few years, she was finally able to buy a decent automobile. (She'd had a couple of real doozies in between) It was a 1956 Buick, big as a tank. It had a white body a a red top, known, in those days, as a two-tone paint job. The chrome alone must have weighed 500 LBS! Anyway, I was 14 and thought the car was absolutely beautiful. I had learned, from some of my older brother's friends, to drive a little. I wanted, more than anything, to drive that Buick. Along with taking care of a large family and working full-time, my Mom was usually pretty tired when she got home from the hospital each day, so she would lay down and take a nap for about an hour. One sunny day, after Mom was sound asleep, I decided I was no longer going to dream about driving the Buick, I was going to do it. I took the keys off the table, ran out to the car, started her up, and away I went. I was having a grand time driving around the neighborhood and even ventured across Oak Street into Alameda , where a very, very cute boy I knew happened to live. I drove past his house, hoping he would see me driving this gorgeous vehicle. He would be soooooooooooo impressed, but drats!....no one was around. I knew I needed to get home before Mom woke up so I turned the corner and headed back to 8Th Street. It was the time of day when the sun is deep into the Western sky, blinding me as I drove toward home. I proceeded slowly, but was frightened about not being able to clearly see where I was going. Suddenly, as clearly as I've ever heard, a male voice said, "Stop this car!" I was stunned, thinking that I was hearing things but the voice said it again. I put my foot on the brake and came to a stop in the middle of the street. There was a small dip in the road, which moved the hood of the car down enough to create a clear view for me. I looked around for the man who had spoken to me but he was nowhere to be seen. What I did see was a beautiful little blond-haired girl, maybe 3 years old, riding a tricycle which was stopped right in front of that monster sized Buick, and no more than a foot away. My heart was thundering in my chest and ears. I trembled uncontrollably and couldn't move for what seemed an eternity. The child smiled sweetly, waving at me as she finished her trip across the street....Now THAT was a miracle...................for both of us.