Love is a Miracle

by Karen Wright

Grey misty wetness. Evergreen treetops. The hint of a salt air and the distant roar of the ocean. My little sister’s tiny bump tummy. Graceful curves of arms intertwined. Love is a miracle. “It makes you relaxed.”

The livable part of their house is barely big enough to fit in the crib they will need in less than 6 months. Only married long enough for all the hanging pictures to be wedding pictures.

Still, reflective lake. Love never fails.

I remember the tulle, light-edged afternoon. It wasn’t that long ago. All the girls were there, just like old times. Black heels, green ribbon, the solo and the rush of walking down the aisle. Today was the day.

We all drove there together — sisters, as we drive everywhere together. As it seemed we would drive forever. They drove away, the two of them, and that is how it is now.

The years are too short for all the living to be fit in that we should have fit in. Or maybe just the living we had was not noticed enough.

I see them come downstairs in the morning together. I am not jealous. I am happy. The lost years can eat me up if I let them, but I can’t let that happen. Instead, we do have such happy, different times now.

I think of love. I am amazed that God can create in the human heart a capacity for love. I love “my girls”. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my students.

But that love, that vacuuming and breakfast-making and bleary eyes and scruffy hair — overshadowed by photos of the day she wore a veil and he wore a black suit — that love is like none else. It turns a quiet, meek man into a humble spiritual leader. It turns a changeable girl into a devoted wife. It takes two ordinary people and binds them in a mysterious glow — an incomprehensible bond that looks on tempests and is not shaken.

To the wandering soul, looking in, the desire for such a love is not the grabbing, scrambling passion for a lover of the night. It is beyond that. It is the rest of home, the comfort of a mooring, the solace of the tea by the fire when the wind blows.

It is not like the love I have for God. God’s love over-arches it all. It turns it into what it is. It brings meaning to it. Without God’s love, it is nothing — merely nice words and happy gestures.

God is the life of love, the source of miracles, the meaning of happiness. And life is a gift, love is a miracle, and Your grace, O Lord, is enough.

Karen is a full-time piano teacher/accompanist in Oregon. In between a crazy musician’s schedule and various volunteer activities, she likes to fill her time working on halfway insane projects inspired by granola living and anything adventurous and active that doesn’t involve hand-eye coordination. Her heart’s desire is that all people may know the freedom and joy found in knowing their Creator God.