Last week I experienced a minor miracle. Nothing earth shaking or momentous, but a something that answered my prayer for clarity. I was on a tight schedule and had returned from walking the dog when I realized that my phone was lost somewhere on our two mile wandering path. Truly, this was not something I had time to deal with, and yet I had no choice. There is a website that will help locate a phone within a certain radius, so I goggled, jumped in the car and drove to the general location.
It was just a short time before that I had walked this path completely enmeshed in thoughts of inadequacy, wondering if I was moving in the right direction anywhere in my life. And somewhere in the midst of that craving for a message my phone had escaped from my pocket. I did not miss the irony of the situation, praying for a message and losing the tool I use for messaging.
I whispered a short bargaining prayer, “if I find my phone, I will take that as a yes” as I walked, scanning the ground. Time was short. I was supposed to be getting dressed to attend services for the first night of Rosh Hashanah, the beginning of Jewish high holidays, and here I was wandering through wet grass with the minutes ticking by. Just as I realized the irony of the timing with the holiday of new beginnings and personal awareness, there it was, red-case side up, in a dry patch, smiling at me.
Or perhaps it was the universe, or G-d, or spirit laughing at me, asking if I noticed the small miracle at my feet. Did I hear the answer to my prayer or would I keep asking the same questions over and over again about love and career and life in general? There was no time to reflect, so I picked it up, rushed home, changed clothes and headed to synagogue. And then, finally, a sense of profound gratefulness overflowed into my heart. Yes I found my phone. But more importantly at the beginning of a holy season I had been touched by a miracle.