Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
14 For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.’”
I Kings 17:7-16 Elijah and the woman at Zarephath) New international Version
20 They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. 21 The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.
Matthew 14:13-21 (The feeding of the five thousand) New international Version
I believe in miracles
Big and small, and mostly ordinary,
Extraordinary in their essence
When they happen, as they do daily.
In hindsight, recognizing them
As miracles only later
There’s a knock at my door almost every day
I open it to a seeming abstraction.
“Here I am,” says the thing,
“I know you were not expecting me,
You will learn my name in time, trust me first
May I come in?”
The lost phone number of a friend
That turns up unexpectedly in 2020
Hidden under grandfather’s book
Written in 1948,
Miraculous, you say!
The friend request on Facebook of a colleague
From twenty years ago or more
When you took your sick children to the health center
You prayed she would be the nurse on duty
The miracle of her smile, still permanently radiant,
Her healing touch to the child, was a miracle
And her words of the way she remembered me
Were a miracle to savor.
The doctor at the Mission Hospital
Delivering the baby with prayer and hands of silk
The baby that didn’t want to emerge
His patience and skill, the miracle.
The smooth running of a car
You thought would never work again
The miracle of the hands that fixed it
The favor of God to be able to pay for the repairs
Is a miracle to us, we cannot keep accounts, we tried,
God does the accounting, it’s a miracle that things add up.
‘I’m sorry you don’t have grandchildren,’
An old friend said on the phone
And suddenly Amelia arrives,
In God’s good timing, not hers, or ours
The miracle of Birth.
I took Scripture in school
Studied all the miracles of Jesus, and the Lord of Israel
Too young to understand, but not to believe, and have faith,
In Miracles, my lamp is still burning, my basket and cup are overflowing.
There’s always the miracle of food and leftovers
In our home, some we eat, and some we share with others
I’m speaking of the miracle of growth from seed to table,
The blessing of fish once a week, the miracle of the ocean for fish to swim in,
The golden oil for frying, and the blessing
To be able to buy another when that jar is over.
The miracle of the mischievous student in the classroom
Who wrote in a Christmas greeting card,
’What would I have done without you?’
He didn’t know I could have done without him (loved him to death though!)
And on and on, like the jar of oil that did not run dry
And the fish and loaves that kept on multiplying.
Each day is a miracle and
Nature in all its splendor is a miracle,
The sky at dawn, the mid-day sun, the new and full moon
Eclipses both solar and lunar,
The miracle of night to lay your head on a pillow,
Once I slept on a mattress on the ground, in grandma’s house
The miracle of the softness of sleep with loved ones
And not to be alone then, or now.
The miracle of words
Where do they come from?
When I pray, I know that those words
The ones that sometimes magically appear on the page
Not from my pen,
A poem is a miracle,
I believe in miracles.
Copyright Kavita 2019