Inch, yard and foot – All Miracles!

Miracles
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the
        ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there? Walt Whitman 1819-1892

This is such a refrshing view of life. “Miracles” was first published in Whitman’s Leaves of Grass (Fowler & Wells, 1856) as “Poem of Perfect Miracles.” Please read it several times and allow the words and the lines to take you to new summits of appreciation. The poem invites much pondering and gives birth to much prayer. On days when the world overwhlems us in its sadness and sorrow, on days when chaos and confusion overrides our search for calm and purpose, we would do well to hear this poem. If it is miracles we hope for we need only open our eyes and allow much of what we see to remind us that “perfect miracles” are all around us. Enjoy.

Prayer:
O God of sunlight and moonlight,
of shining stars and sparkling snow flakes,
of budding flowers and bubbling springs, you
surround us with miracles to see with our
hearts as much as our eyes.
We join in prayer with all generations who
have also caught glimpes of your majesty.
You, O creator Lord, are beyond our comprehension
yet though infinite in nature you come close
and reside in our hearts. Help us, we pray, to
welcome your presence and to sing in tune
with your song of creation.
Today, keep us from pointing the finger at what
we determine to be actions or attitudes so different
from our own. Today, keep us from dismissing
others who have a different worldview than ourselves.
Today, may you, O Loving God, place the miracle of love
in our communities and in our country that together
we might live the miracle of welcome, inclusion, hope,
healing, and difference. Every hour of light and dark is
a miracle. So help us to live and love in every hour. Amen.
PS
Eternity
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise. William Blake 1757-1827