Tuesday of Easter Week

One of the interesting things about the Easter story is how easy it is to doubt miracles, and how often we forget promises.

Our backyard willow is a young tree, only five years or so old, and I sometimes doubt its wisdom. The branches are deepening from a yellow to a yellow-green, and the new leaves, while not yet open, are peeking out their leaf-tips as if to test the air.

Will it freeze again, I wonder. It’s been a rough coming to spring and the nights are still cold. Will the tree become too impatient for the next day and make a mistake?

Perhaps I’m wondering about myself. Perhaps when we doubt, what we are really doubting is our ability to persevere, regardless of the unevenness of our days, and to believe in the miracles we sometimes forget to recognize.

Just the fact that I am writing is a miracle; just the fact that you are reading is a miracle. Start there. And see the way a recognition of miracles extends the parameters of what we overlook, extends our understanding of the holy, operating in our lives moment by moment, every day.

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