Wondrously Lost

It’s an easy world to get lost in. People you once knew dearly are now miles apart, new faces greet you only to make you unsure if you can trust them, familiar places turn foreign in the blink of an eye. Time moves fast. So does the frequency of tragedies–there are forests catching fire, freedoms being threatened, and a pandemic taking over the world. There’s something to protest in every direction you look, or don’t look.

We seem to be accustomed to overlooking small acts of kindness in a sea of trouble. Why does it matter anyway, right? A drop of fresh water falling into the sea is not going to make it any less salty. Yet, rivers seek to flow into the very same sea.

Try as you might to hate the world, some instances come close to changing your mind. Convince yourself that there’s no way your team is getting close to winning the game, and there it is–a glorious comeback! Tell everyone that you messed up that interview without the shadow of a doubt, and sitting in your inbox is a callback. Look away for a second, and the numbing emptiness is replaced by a person that spins your world around. It’s almost as if the universe has a knack for throwing something your way when you least expect it. It has unquestionably perfected this art.

Nevertheless, we forget. A once rare occurrence transforms into a habit and the element of surprise disappears. Perhaps this is why we have our easter eggs. A small gesture that turns your day around, a text someone left because they remembered a random detail about you, a failed event that miraculously comes together in the end, or a happenstance that happens to be the “sign” you were waiting for. Easter eggs, magic, miracles–call them what you will, but they are undeniable. I see them happen every day. Casual miracles, not waiting for anything in particular, just happen.

And you–you don’t have a clue what an effortless miracle you are. When you set foot into the universe, you gave it something it has never seen in its nearly 14 billion years of existence. Accustomed to years of your own existence, you fail to notice the rhythmic heartbeat thumping against your rib cage. Keeping you alive, letting the universe know that a treasure remains safe in its confines. You only see a part of yourself. The other part–the part that is a good friend when in need, the part that is oblivious to having made someone’s day, the part that your parents are secretly proud of, is seen only in the eyes of the people around you.

It’s an easy world to get lost in. I hope your miracles show you the way when you need it most, and if not, you have the most invaluable one always keeping you company.