What's your miracle story? [Repost from 2021]
Plus: After the Sky Fell
Hey everyone,
Welcome aboard, new readers. We have a number of new Inner Peace community members (thanks Susan!), so below is a re-post from 2021, on our miracle stories. Each of us has had an extraordinary path to be here today on Earth. Everything came together over many years to form our current selves, living, breathing, loving, and interacting with the world.
Pondering our miraculous journey to existence today is also worthwhile because it can be both healing and inspiring.
What’s your miracle story?
-Matthew
Years ago, well before I was born, my dad was tied up and held at gunpoint at a Bronx ice cream shop he worked at during college. In her mid-30s, after meeting my dad-to-be, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, the same disease that killed her mother and grandmother. She was told that if she survived it would be difficult to have a child. She had one anyway, at almost 40, only after she and my dad met via a mutual friend.
All of this came together for my existence to happen. I try to keep in mind that I'm a miracle — it's a miracle I'm even here, breathing, chugging along. We're all a miracle, really. Each of us is likely a long shot, stitched together by random events over time. Each day, we make seemingly insignificant decisions — to join an organization, to run to the grocery store, to grab a coffee — without realizing the possibilities that our choices lead to. No matter how hard we work, or who we are, we are all subject to the quirks of chance. We are all the result of tons of small choices and decisions.
Each of us is a miracle. Maybe your parents met on a chance encounter. Maybe they nearly broke up before having you. Maybe one survived a near-death experience. Maybe there's something else. Do you know? Can you find out? Whatever the case, it can be a tranquil exercise to meditate not only on your mortality but on your miracle story. You, just being here, is a gift. You just being here is everything you ever needed. The breaths you take, the smiles you share, your presence — all signs of your beautiful, miraculous existence.
New Year's resolutions and intentions have their place, but I challenge you to enter the new year by digging deep and reflecting on your miracle. I'd love to hear your story. Plus, keeping your personal miracle story at the forefront tends to drive you in ways no goal or resolution can. Maybe it's the gravity of life that hits you…so let the fleetingness of your life carry you forward in remarkable ways. Let it help you become the person you’ve dreamed of being.
A few starting questions for a year-end thought session:
What were my best memories of 2021?
What 'mistake' am I most grateful for having made in 2021?
What do I want in 2022?
With whom do I want to spend more time?
What is my heart yearning for?
My favorite books from the year:
After the Sky Fell
A short story, from Brady Dennis, Tampa Bay Times, 2005:
The few drivers on this dark, lonely stretch of the Suncoast Parkway in Pasco County pull to the toll booth, hand their dollars to Lloyd Blair and then speed away. None of them knows why the old man sits here, night after night, working the graveyard shift.
Well, here’s why:
Because years ago, on a freezing winter night at a party in Queens, N.Y., he met a woman named Millie.
Because he fell in love with her brown hair and wide eyes and 100-watt smile.
Because they got married, moved to Staten Island, had a son and worked for decades in Manhattan; she as an accountant, he as a banker.
Because it had been their dream to retire to Florida, and so they saved all their lives to make it possible.
Because, just as they began to talk of leaving New York and heading south, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and they spent their time and money traveling to New Jersey, San Diego and Mexico in search of a cure.
Because, in the end, they came to Florida anyway.
Because they finally bought a house in Spring Hill, although she was too weak that day to get out of the car.
Because she died nine days later on Jan. 5, 2002, a day “the whole sky fell,” he says.
Because, after she was gone, he found himself alone and $100,000 in debt.
And so he took a job collecting tolls. The drivers who pass by see a smiling 71-year-old man with blue eyes and a gray mustache who tells each of them, “Have a great night!”
They don’t know the rest of Lloyd Blair’s story, or that he keeps Millie’s picture in his shirt pocket, just under his name tag, just over his heart.
Photo of the week: Spent the Christmas holiday with family and golden doodles Ellie Mae and Hank, who radiate joy and love each day.
Parting thought: Renewal doesn’t have to be just a New Year’s thing: Each new morning is a chance to be a new you and redefine yourself.
A note: Thank you, all, for following along these past few months. Since launching the newsletter in August, this has been the most enjoyable writing space for me in quite some time, maybe ever. We've built a community here. Your kind comments and suggestions are much appreciated. Your responses and reflections mean a great deal.
Among the texts/emails I've received: a reader opening up about how challenging it's been to grieve the loss of a close loved one; a man who has struggled with depression for decades; and another person who is out of work, looking to find some inner peace — just a sliver — in her life. Hopefully, this email is just that: a place emitting some hope, peace and love.
Wishing you and your family a wonderful New Year. I hope you're doing okay.
Love,
Matthew
My parents (Lou and Jeanelle) met one summer in Almonesson, NJ. My mother lived in a house on the lake there, and my father, a college student at Penn, rented next door with fraternity brothers. His rental partners wanted a different house elsewhere in the state, but my father won out! And that was that! The "quirks of chance"!
For many, to think of one's story as a miracle may seem silly...but, as you elegantly put it, there is too much that needs to happen (or not happen) for our story to be just due to chance. So, I would say that "miracle" is the perfect word for all of our unique, individual stories.