My sister, Swede, who often sees to the nub, offered this: People fear miracles because they fear being changed--though ignoring them will change you also. Swede said another thing, too, and it rang in me like a bell: No miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here's what I saw. Here's how it went. Make of it what you will.

Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week--a miracle, people say, as if they've been educated from greeting cards.

Routine is worry's sly assassin.

We and the world, my children, will always be at war. Retreat is impossible. Arm yourselves.

So thoughtlessly we sling on our destinies.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature.

Pride is the rope God allows us all.