I woke up from a nap this afternoon and was looking for Maria. She was working on a beautiful new quilt, and I decided not to interrupt her. I walked down to the pond she had been telling me about every day and stood still for a few minutes.

This morning, she talked to me about the wonderful time she had sitting down by our pond. The heat had kept her away, but it brought her back to life. Maria always sees miracles, and I am learning how to do so.

We all choose what is important to us. This is what I am learning to do with my flowers.

My heart was troubled by the awful news, the dreadful heat, the relentlessly bad news,  and the suffering of so many people in a world turned upside down in many different ways. Indeed, I thought, one is related to the other.

My heart quieted as I stood by the stream; something drew me to it.

I heard a frog but couldn’t see him. I saw fish swimming up to the stream, looking for tiny bugs in the water.

The pond and the woods around it are full of miracles every minute. I  never looked for them, but I think of them now; I can’t see miracles on the news, listen to politicians’ posture and rage, or dodge hungry bugs in the heat. I saw all kinds of new wildflowers I had never noticed before; they were so beautiful they listed my heart up and reminded me that suffering is a choice.

There are fresh green plants all around and wildflowers everywhere. Zinnia leapts with joy into the pond.

A heron flew overhead, saw me, and veered away. The shell of a crawfish was lying below. The frog had gone quiet. Over the pasture, some blackbirds chased a hawk and fled their little mob. A few minutes later, I felt worried and uneasy, as I thought we’d all had enough; I kept thinking of one thing.

I was no longer at one with the stream and all the life around it.

I had slipped into the other world, not my world, not the world of miracles. But when I pay attention,  the world is a whole collection of miracles. I can only appreciate their value if I’m aware of them.

All around me,  life bursts forth with miracles – a glass of cold water, a new book to read, a new picture to take, a daughter to love, a life to lead,  the sun bursting out of the clouds, a caterpillar, a Barn Cat, a donkey pleading for attention, a cat friend who sees into my soul,  a partner that I adore, laughter when I felt it,  rain, blooming flowers, sleeping dogs, freedom to write.

It is easy enough to find miracles all over the place; Maria has taught me how to do that and to see what is around me.

So has the farm. Every morning, I go outside and stare at our beautiful old apple tree. It is truly a miracle, right there in my yard. Every time I take a picture of a flower, it nourishes me and helps me to feel love and hope.

When I stop and pay attention to a tree, as Thomas Merton taught me to do, it takes my breath away and brings me back into myself. That’s why I am here; that’s what I have been looking for all my life.

Every human being I know is made up of countless miracles: every donkey and every ewe, every dog and every chicken.  I have eyes that see colors, shapes, and forms, ears that hear crows complaining in the trees, a bee buzzing by my nose, a spider crawling down a web, and a mind that writes, dreams, and forgets names.

When I am tired, discouraged, and often outraged by life’s daily crimes, hurts, and cruelty, I start looking around and counting miracles. They are all right under my nose. And I remember what is essential.

Maria cut a bouquet for me this morning, another daily miracle. Please come and see it.  It was right under my nose, but I never stopped to look for it.