Mystical me...

How boring life must be for those who live only in the five little senses, convinced that if they cannot touch it, smell it, see it, hear it or taste it, it just doesn't exist. Really, people, how pedestrian. There is going on all around me this amazing mystery. Take the other night, when I took a friend to dinner and a meeting. She proudly showed me a new bracelet, a gift from a lover. Then, later, she noticed it was missing. We weren't in a position to look for it, so I suggested a quick prayer to St. Jude, who has only once failed to return lost objects to me (once in a while, I need a little lesson in paying attention, that one cost me $150). We searched the car later, no bracelet. When we arrived at her home, we took both our dogs for a little walk, me following her. On our way back, there was the bracelet, laying right in my path. It wasn't there when we passed that way before, and she had checked to see if it was caught in her jacket earlier. Where did it come from? Oh, and it was wet from the rain, though laying in a sheltered area. Naturally, we were grateful it came back to her. And I want to remember that there are miracles happening all the time. Everywhere. Things that are beyond explanation, that exist even for those who don't believe in them. It is part of the sweetness of it all. Life would be pretty barren without that sweetness.