All About You FRIDAY – Making Room for Miracles

There are two types of people in this world: those who believe only what they can touch and see (naturalists) and those who feel something bigger is in control (supernaturalists). I easily fall into the latter camp.

“How can you believe in God with all that has happened to you?” I’ve been asked in the past. Loss of a spouse to suicide, birthing a special needs child, launching a business only to have it flounder for years in financial uncertainty, having to close down a second clinic and going on over 100 first dates only to remain single for years could make one second guess the point of anything.

“If you knew all of my story,” I reply, “you wouldn’t wonder. The proof is in the pudding.”

The original saying was “the proof of the pudding is in the eating” and referred to medieval dishes that included sausage and fat mixture boiled in skin or intestines. In the 14th century, it was difficult to look at this concoction and determine if it was safe to eat. The only way to see if food was not spoiled was to actually taste it.

Taste. In the Psalms, the Hebrew word is “ta’am” and means to perceive and to experience personally. “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” the psalmist instructs.

In today’s environment, it is easy to fall into the trap of tasting life through other’s opinions. We are glued to our social media feed for the latest news and crusades we should champion. We feel the weight of the world even as we have little power to stop the chaos. This world, at face value, often doesn’t make sense. Innocent people die. Good people get sick. Hard work doesn’t always produce a huge salary.

I lost a friend last week. Pat was old and ill. But she was one of those people who lived so much life that it seemed she should live forever. When she was younger, she was one of the first female lifeguards on one of the California beaches. This was before Bay Watch and she was not so popular. The male life guards were threatening to kill her if she didn’t get off the beach, they were so angry. But she stood her ground.

She went on to work with troubled youth, many of whom faced hard family situations and drug addiction. She was the stern but caring force in their lives. That’s how she was. Not a warm fuzzy. But you knew she loved you because you could tell she cared about the details of your life.

One day she told me the story of how she found a young woman upset in the parking lot at LAX because she couldn’t find her Porsche. Turns out it had gotten stolen. But as they talked, she realized the young woman didn’t live too far from her so she offered her a ride home. The woman was so grateful she invited her over to a party. Much to my friend’s surprise, the party was pretty wild with all the drugs and alcohol indicative of a rock and roll bash. The young woman? Janis Joplin. “I had never heard of her before,” my friend said. Turns out she would way out live Janis.

She met the love of her life and that is what precipitated her move from California to Michigan. She became a dealer of antiques. I know because she hired me to photograph her collection several times. She had stories about each of the things she collected. She didn’t just acquire them, she treasured their history.

She launched a successful landscape lighting company that she worked up until a couple of years ago. Even when she was already walking with a walker, she would thoughtfully meander through people’s properties and create mood through lighting that would add peace and tranquility to their homes.

And each time I went over to her house, she insisted on making me lunch. It would take her forever to make the meal but she refused any help. Instead, I would sit out in her beautiful garden sipping iced tea or lemonade and chat with her partner until the food was ready. Her speciality was delicious grilled cheese with tomato soup that had a hint of orange in it. Food for the soul.

I didn’t intend on writing about her today, but as I thought about tasting life, I think she exemplified that to the fullest. I am ashamed to say that sometimes I didn’t have time to hang out with her. Visits with her were never quick because she wanted to take the time to talk and slow things down. She was into fine dining life, not fast food eating it.

What I was going to write about was the challenges of owning a small PT practice in January. Every year, we hit a cash flow crunch as we try to balance smaller insurance checks (because patient’s deductibles haven’t been met) with unchanging expenses. Each year, January tests my faith and sometimes robs me of a paycheck. But it is also the time of year that forces me to my knees and reminds me to make room for a miracle.

I’m embarrassed to say that, though I’m pretty good at it, I’m not an expert “life-taster” and things still make me worry. How many times does God have to prove Himself to me? It’s a silly question. Because the proof is in the pudding. And I’m grateful for his patience.

I think of my autistic son who was saved the pain of the loss of his father because he doesn’t understand death. I think of the thousands of people who have walked through my clinic in the past 23 and a half years when I thought we wouldn’t survive five (my friend, Pat, was one of them). And when I come home and look into the eyes of the one I love, I realize those 100 first dates were just to keep me busy until she was ready to walk into my life. I am a lucky girl.

January is my reminder to patiently step aside and make room for miracles. Someone bigger than me is in control. The proof is in pudding.

It’s been a long week. Don’t forget to celebrate. Celebrate the miracles that surround you. I promise, they are there.

Until next time…