I Tied My Shoes Today

Here's a brief recap of my day.  It's an unbiased assessment of my experiences and the miracle-worthy-ness of it all:

• I tied my shoes.  Yep.  Miracle.

• I got a front row parking space.  Whoa! Another miracle.

• I mowed the lawn.  Thinking ... thinking ... yes, it's a miracle.

• I saw Mt. Hood today.  Definitely a miracle.

Look, I know that by shouting miracle for seemingly normal, common, and even predictable occurrences, I risk diluting the sacredness of that word.  But instead of saving/hoarding this word "miracle", patiently waiting for … well, only truly miraculous conditions, I choose to go on a reckless, yet reverent, verbal spending spree of the word, “miracle.”  I am willingly and intentionally seeking out experiences in my day that I can and will attribute to miracles.  And I really can’t help it.  I am compelled to, arguably, lower the standard of what constitutes a miracle.   

But wait … did I just admit to lowering the standard and saturating the miracle market with my rapid paced "miracle of the minute" view.  Please stay with me here.  I submit to you that I am not lowering the miracle standard at all.  I submit to you readers that I am, in fact, elevating it to a new, higher level of daily praise and celebration.

I will rest ... and breathe, smile, splash someone, shoot a rubber band at a co-worker, and wash dishes.  All in a quest to seek exhilarating examples of the miracle of life.

And there are more miracles out there ... cover me, I'm goin' in.

==================================

One year ago I wrote the following:

I will smell more flowers, pet more dogs, hug more people, and laugh more often.  I will swim in oceans, climb up mountains, and run in open fields.  I will seek ways to serve others, order off the dessert menu, and make a miserable face whenever I eat Sushi.

I've been given another chance at life.

I was hospitalized with a serious brain injury.  The central part of my brain, the thalamus, was swollen from lack of blood flow.  "The thalamus plays a major role in regulating arousal, the level of awareness, and activity.  Damage to the thalamus can lead to permanent coma."  New-medical.net.

It started with severe headaches, dizziness, and finally, coma-like symptoms that would send me to the hospital.  At that time, May 22, 2005, doctors could neither predict my outcome nor my recovery.  They could not offer my family any assurance that my health would return to normal.  Permanent damage was a possibility.

During my hospital stay, I was overwhelmed with prayers, family, friends, phone calls, and visits.  I am forever grateful for all the encouragement and support my family and I received during such a difficult time.  I soon began the rapid recovery that would amaze doctors.

About a week later, I would conquer the feat of tying my own shoes.  Tasks that were once simple, brought mental challenges.  I remember walking the long hospital hallways, with Carrie, in what always seemed like a marathon endurance race.

Today, I enjoy a 100% recovery.  The doctors refer to my case as a miracle ... and I believe them.

I tie my own shoes with renewed appreciation.  What was once a mental challenge, has returned to simple.  I walk the long hallways of life, with Carrie, and it always seems like a walk in the park.

I've been given another chance at life.

So with renewed passion and purpose, each day I will seek ways to smell it, touch it, see it, taste it, and listen to it.  Care to join me?  Lace up your shoes ... get out there and start enjoying your walk through life.

Kevin, a grey-haired eight year old.

==================================

My miracle recovery, described above, occurred nine years ago this month.  Since then, I've noticed that my life is continually surrounded and inundated by miracles … and on a daily basis.

So how about you?  Got miracles?  Tied your shoes lately?

Your daily miracles are out there too … start looking, experiencing, and then start celebrating.