I work with families, helping them find what will likely be their aging parent’s last home. If I pay attention, I can see miracles at work.
I don’t mean miracles like the parting of the Red Sea, as in the story of Moses. I certainly don’t mean turning water into wine or raising the dead. At life’s end, though, happenings occur which can hardly be explained other than a miracle, at least to those who believe.
Often, thankfulness encircles a miracle. We express thanks, we look around and mysteriously we’re open to seeing life with new eyes, a sort of miracle all in itself. Some people call it Serendipity. And afterwards, the miracle can continue through the expression of thankfulness.
One day about a month ago, I finished touring a family at Sunrise of Edmonds, an assisted living and memory care community. I hadn’t been there in quite a while. My clients went their way. I went mine. Halfway down the hall I spotted the son-in-law of a resident and family friend whom I had helped move in here a year before. The resident’s name was Morrie.
“Alice, Morrie passed a little while ago. But Bunny is still there.” Bunny was Morrie’s wife.
Should I knock on the door or leave the family alone? So I asked, “Would Bunny mind if I came in?”
Soon I was ushered into the room and greeted like I was family. I was filled with thankfulness. Bunny was inscribing the back of a beautiful watercolor painting she had done years earlier.
“All of the caregivers here have been wonderful. This painting is for Morrie’s favorite caregiver. I want to express my special appreciation. She had a smile for him every time she saw him.”
For me, this little glimpse of love and appreciation in the midst of loss was a miracle. I didn’t come here often, but I showed up that day and was blessed. I left with a thankful heart.