The Little Book of Everyday Miracles

By Sharon Snir

The perfect book for anyone wanting to experience or share a little of life's magic

There's something about miracles that's utterly enticing. Just to hear about a miracle makes you feel more hopeful. It doesn't matter whether this miracle happened to you or to a complete stranger - it can still delight you. It's a delight that lingers, that leaves you with a spring in your step. Suddenly life doesn't seem so difficult. But where are miracles to be found, and how do they come about?

In this beautiful collection of inspiring true stories, everyday people share moments of unexpected courage and kindness, chance meetings and remarkable coincidences, showing us that miracles can take us out of the darkest places and give us the courage to get moving again. They're a divine catalyst, which reminds us that the impossible may just be possible.

The perfect book for anyone wanting to experience a little of life's magic.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inspired Living
• Release date: Oct 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781742698847

Book preview

1

The miracle collector

I was born believing in miracles. Don’t ask me how I knew miracles happened, I just did. I also knew life wasn’t restricted to mundane things. I simply knew that there was more to life than I could see or hear or feel. That’s what miracles do to us. They stretch our vision, nudging us beyond all the everyday things which weigh us down. Of course, we don’t have to believe in miracles. It’s our choice.

Albert Einstein said: ‘There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.’

There’s something about miracles though that’s pretty enticing. Just to hear about a miracle makes you feel more hopeful. It doesn’t matter whether this miracle happened to you or to a complete stranger. Magically, it can still fill you with delight. It’s a delight that lingers, gives you a spring in your step and leaves you feeling like suddenly life doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

One of the many curious things about miracles is that when you recall them weeks, months or years later, remarkably you can access the initial delight you first experienced. Just thinking about a certain miracle connects you back in time to that magical happening and once more you are filled with the wonder and joy of that miraculous moment. It’s as if there’s a place in the universe where miracles are kept, a kind of divine storehouse that can never run dry.

Miracles do lift us up. They can take us out of the darkest places, giving us the courage to get moving again. They’re a divine catalyst that reminds us that the impossible may just be possible. They’re contagious as well. When we’re in that magical space, we inspire others to join us there, and so they benefit as well.

A miracle is a divine gift. It must never be taken for granted, and it can never be achieved by will alone. We need to allow room for the divine to enter the person, place or situation where a miracle is needed. This requires patience and belief, and an open mind as to how the divine might choose to manifest.

Of course, miracles aren’t just something that happens outside us. We, too, can be miracle makers if we so choose. We have the opportunity to transform the lives of those around us with tiny acts of kindness, courage and insight. When we do this from the heart, we too can benefit from the delight that follows.

Sometimes miracles require that we’re made of sterner stuff. They may ask that we sacrifice something precious for our own benefit or for the greater good. This means accessing whatever grit and determination and belief we can. This process may stretch us to the limits, but we can be assured it’s for a good cause. The more we give, the greater the rewards.

One of the most beautiful ways in which we can create miracles is in daring to forgive those things that feel impossibly hard to leave behind. As Robert Muller, Assistant Secretary-General to the United Nations from 1948 to 1988, says, ‘To forgive is the highest, most beautiful form of love. In return, you will receive untold peace and happiness.’²

The miracle of forgiveness isn’t just for others. Frequently we need to experience this grace in our own lives. Not long ago I believed that I had failed in achieving something I had set out to do. I was angry with myself and ashamed that I had not succeeded. I spent a few long torturous days beating myself up about my shortcomings until a friend reminded me it was actually alright not to be perfect! I apologised to myself, and let it go. Once we have mastered the loving act of forgiving ourself we open our heart to forgiving others. Forgiving is not about condoning the action of the other or even reconciling with them. Fred Luskin says forgiveness can be defined as the ‘peace and understanding that come from blaming that which has hurt you less, taking the life experience less personally, and changing your grievance story’.³ As we do this, we find our life is transformed. When we make the shift from judgement to forgiveness, we discover the miracle of true inner peace.

No one is immune to being hurt. We have all experienced varying degrees of grief and loss, betrayal, rejection and abandonment. Dr Fred Luskin is no different. After being abandoned and deeply hurt by a very good friend while a student at Stanford, he spent the following years suffering resentment, battling bitterness and finding everything in his life affected by this event. Being a psychologist, he tried everything he knew to feel better but nothing worked, until one day a voice said to him, Let it go, just let it go. He set about to explore the virtue of forgiveness, becoming the director of the Forgiveness Project at Stanford University.

I have no idea what miracles may have been yours, or what miracles await you, but I do know that when you experience a miracle, nothing is ever quite the same again.

2

First miracles are

never forgotten

Have you noticed how miracles have a way of leaving an imprint on you, forever changing the way you look at something or someone?

My first miracle occurred on Christmas Eve. Like children the world over, I waited for Santa Claus every year and every year he came without fail. He carried gifts from my parents and their friends and he left them silently at the end of my bed. Even knowing who the gifts were from, my faith in Santa never wavered one iota. As clear as I was that the fat-bellied, red-robed Santa in the shopping centres was not the real McCoy, I knew without a doubt that he existed and that he knew where I lived. As with all of us, however, there comes a time when faith begins to hover between wanting to believe and wanting to know the truth.

It was early morning on Christmas Eve and I walked into my parents’ bedroom. They were sitting up in bed, reading the papers, sipping tea and crunching on marmalade toast. Although I was only seven years old, I was a particularly precocious child and was reading whatever I could get my hands on. I was about to ask for the comic section of the papers when I saw the headline, ‘Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus’.

Asking if I could have that part of the paper I walked out of their bedroom and sat down in the kitchen. The radio was playing ‘Oh What a Night’. As I began to read the article I was astonished to discover that over 60 years ago Virginia, an eight-year-old girl, had written a letter to the editor of the New York Sun. She was from New York City and like me had begun to question the existence of Santa Claus. Apparently some of her school friends told her that Santa didn’t exist. On asking her father whether they were right, he suggested she write to the New York Sun, adding that, ‘If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.’

I was riveted as I read the article. Virginia’s letter was answered by newsman Francis Church:

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! How dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.⁴

This beautiful answer ignited a light in me that confirmed the existence of all that is good and beautiful and magical in life. So that was what Santa was all about!

While I sat in the kitchen thinking about these words, the radio switched from music to a broadcast from New York. The radio announcer, Hector MacFayden, was interviewing 74-year-old Virginia Douglas about a letter to the editor she had written when she was eight years old. I was stunned. MacFayden said:

It’s probably the most famous letter to the editor of all time. In 1897, young Virginia O’Hanlon wrote a letter to the New York Sun and wanted to know if there really was a Santa Claus. The letter, coupled with the response in which editorial writer Francis Church assured the little girl that Santa Claus indeed existed, became a sentimental favourite. Sixty-six years later, CBC Radio interviews Virginia, who is now a grandmother of seven.⁵

As I listened to Virginia’s voice it was as if she was talking directly to me. When she was asked whether her life was affected by the answer she’d been given, she said, ‘The older I grow the more I realise what a perfect philosophy it is for life.’ She went on to say that being the recipient of such kindness from Mr Church, she felt a sort of responsibility to live up to the vision of life he’d spoken about, and that many kind and wonderful things had happened in her life that she believes would not have occurred had she not written her letter and got such a beautiful response.

Nothing was ever quite the same for me after that day.

A door to a new dimension had been opened. I discovered all I had to do was ask the universe whenever I was in doubt and be open to the astonishing answers the universe brings.

Somewhere along the line, many of us have lost sight of the magic in life. We don’t recognise the intrinsic connection between the physical and the spiritual worlds. We simply miss the myriad of everyday miracles. More importantly, we have forgotten how to consciously create miracles in our own lives.

And just between you and me, I still believe in Santa Claus.

3

The Golden Lady

Miracles are not afraid to meet us in the hard places in life. Often they will seek us out when all else seems to fail.

As a little child, life was not always so easy for me. My mother was often very disapproving and expressed this with the back of her hand. Being an outspoken child I always had an answer, especially when I was being told to do something I didn’t want to do. I was born argumentative. When I wasn’t arguing I was making up fantastic stories. I would tell my teachers that I was going to be on television or was going overseas. My mother called these stories lies and she would punish me severely for telling them.

After one serious hiding for something I have long forgotten, I went to school and told my teacher my mother had died! I remember how kind and gentle they were with me that day. They called my father to ask whether there was anything they could do to help and my mother answered the phone. Needless to say, they were shocked and I was punished, yet again.

Interestingly, I was never angry with my mother but rather deeply disappointed in myself for constantly getting into trouble. There were many times I would innocently step over the invisible line my mother had drawn for me, and regardless of whether my behaviour was deliberate or not, I was still punished.

At those times I would wander down into our garden and sit under a large hibiscus tree. There I was met by someone I called the Golden Lady. We talked about ordinary things, though we never spoke a word about my mother. She would tell me to look inside a hibiscus flower that was growing on the tree and I would watch tiny black ants busily carrying out their work there. We often talked about stars. She said there were people like her that lived in the stars. She told me that I had many star friends and I believed her.

Every time I went into the garden and sat under the hibiscus tree, the Golden Lady would appear. It seemed to me the most natural thing in the world. I met the Golden Lady many, many times until I turned ten years old, and my grandmother died.

I was very close to my grandmother. She once told me I was her favourite and, at the time, that was the sweetest thing I could have heard. She had long white hair that she wound around and around the top of her head and pinned with a tortoiseshell clip. She smelled of 4711 eau de cologne. Sometimes, when she visited our home, I would hear her talking to my mother in the lounge room after I went to bed. I imagined her telling my mother that I was only a child and not to be too hard on me.

I