My path has been paved with steps of every ilk—from the dark, difficult ones that make the feet feel stuck, to the bright, beautiful ones that feel like an effortless stroll. And all along the way there’ve been signposts, pointing me in the right direction and steering me through the bends in the road. They appear as intuitive knowings, synchronicities, and magical happenings that let me know I’m on the right path. I call them Miracles.
It was this time of year, many moons ago, when I first came to live in this place I call home. I was navigating a dark part of the path in this pre-holiday time, as I moved in and looked forward to getting settled. Though the house was in dire need of tending—hoeing out, cleaning, and repair—I’d bought it because of the way the property seemed to beckon me. It felt so right to be here, and I had an inkling that somehow the house and I could heal together. So, there I was on a Saturday, tackling the job of sorting through what looked to be years of accumulated junk in the garage.
Halfway through the project I was covered in grime and starting to lose my positive outlook. There was so much this little house needed both inside and out—would I be able to accomplish it? Had I made a huge mistake? But I kept plodding away on the task at hand, now leading me to the dismal area beneath the stairway, stuffed with the relics of prior owners and thick cobwebs. I’d pulled out broken furniture, old tools, and some unidentifiable objects when I discovered what seemed to be a tree branch under a coating of dust, leaning against the far wall.
As I wiped the webs from this woody artifact, I realized that its shape seemed oddly familiar—it looked quite like a cane. My heart leapt and my mind raced to a scene from one of my favorite holiday movies. In Miracle on 34th Street, little Suzie struggles to believe in the miracles that a dear old man named Kris Kringle has assured her are real. Her heart’s desire is the home of her dreams, and in the final scene she finds her dream come true. The house is everything she’d hoped for, and by the fireplace leans Kris Kringle’s cane, a symbol that miracles can happen if only we believe. And here I stood, holding what seemed to mirror this story as a sign for me just now.
Over the years this house has indeed been a miracle for me in oh so many ways. The found cane is now a cherished treasure with a special spot in my home and in my heart, for showing up that day to renew my faith in what can be. Its presence is a daily reminder to follow my heart, trust in signs, and always believe in miracles.
Wishing everyone the blessing of miracles this holiday season.
Torie
