I wish that I could count the number of times I should’ve died or come to serious harm when I was younger, but I don’t have that many fingers and toes. I did a lot of stupid shit. 

Most of the things I did were to seem cool or to be liked by the “right” people. I don’t know if it actually worked or not, but I do know that I don’t care any longer. It was a quiet miracle that led me to that.

I was given a second, third, fourth, fifth (you get where I’m going) chance.

The other miraculous thing is that I finally learned that I don’t have to do anything or be anything to be liked or loved. Either someone does or they don’t. And whether they do or not has no bearing on who I am.

I finally learned that I am a miracle just for being here, and so are you. 

We think of the words miraculous and miracle to mean something big and holy. They do, but sometimes the biggest and holiest moments are actually small and quiet.

Where does the word miraculous fit in your life? What are your miracles? Are there times when something miraculous happened but you only realized until well after?

This weekend, think about being open to your miracles, big and small. See if you can spot them in the moment before they have a chance to pass.