A Shortage of Miracles

oscarthegrouchNow I am not talking about the kinds of miracles where someone finds the image of the Virgin Mary in paint chips or peanut shells.  I once saw a very clear image of Scooby Doo in a pancake–and Oscar the Grouch in ivy–so I am just saying.

I am also not talking about the kind of “miracle” where a Tornado wipes out a whole town but spares the daycare center.

The former can be accounted for by society-wide psychosis—not really any different than seeing animate and inanimate objects in clouds or Rorschach tests.

The later can be explained by science.  Plus the idea discounts the rest of the town that was not spared.  Was that an “unmiracle?”

I am talking more about the kinds of miracles that account for the never ending willingness of human beings to engage in long term relationships with other human beings.

We do this in spite of the overwhelming evidence of the folly of such endeavors.

The rewards of such relationships, far out weight the fact that the hottie you could not stop having sex with 24/7–turns into the person you become “willing” to have change your diaper, or you theirs.

These long term relationships also reveal evidence of what could either be nothing more than a reflection of cosmic design, or that the universe has a sense of humor.  We get to discover that by the time you want to make love to someone as old as your grandmother, you are yourself as old as your grandfather.

The “unspoken” willingness to immerse yourself in the life of another human being, knowing full well that that person might be run over tomorrow by the proverbial  bus–or “kick you to the curb” for your sister, brother or best friend next week–is to me truly a miracle of immense proportions.

We are of course talking about “love.”

When love lasts–it is because it “matures.”

The interesting paradox about love is that we must know that “ultimately” it does not last forever, yet we must live our lives as if it does.

Now THAT is a miracle!

By Charles Buell

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