It was in the early evening hours when Paco, my dog, and I went for a walk. As we entered the field on the other side of the woods, we stopped as the beauty of the horizon overtook us. We stood there in the open field as the final hues of the sun spread across the expanse of the snow-covered fields, and I felt my own expansion.
How far we could see! I am always surprised by this, the distance our eyes take us in winter when the farm fields are empty of growing crops.
Only the wind kept our ears company. Not even the bark of a distant dog could be heard as we stood listening to the silence.
The snow, not yet broken by the deer’s hoofs, spread out in a blue-white hue, luminous with a golden spray of the sun’s final vestige.
We stood, my dog and I, in quiet prayer, in tranquility, in beauty words can never describe. We stood in grace. And I am so grateful for these moments of my life.
It is finding the extraordinary in the ordinary that we come to know the miraculous.
I’ve come to know the miraculous on this land where I live. I know the miraculous in Paco’s eyes when he looks at me with such trust that can only come from un unfettered heart. I know the miraculous when I feel the soft fur of Sesame cat curled up next to me in the comfort of the warm blankets before dawn’s winter cold calls to us.
I know the miraculous in the flight of the great Red-Tailed Hawk and the skittering of the red squirrels as they scamper from tree to tree. I know the miraculous in the peace of the deer, their eyes jet black like the jet-black buttons on my grandmother’s dresses, facets cut like planes of depth.
I know the miraculous in the sway of the tall trees and the song of the night frogs and the crickets chirp.
I know the miraculous of each breath I take as I breathe in and breathe out, breathing that sustains this body as Paco and I look across the barren farm fields while the sun slips quietly to the other side of the horizon leaving behind its brilliance.