Dear reader,
I’m writing to you from a new seat in my house. It isn’t exactly new *to* the house, but it’s new for me. We have an accent chair in the far left corner of our living room. Woven white cushions, broad and stable base. From this position, I can’t see the sun. But I can see the sun painting and changing shadows across the walls. I can also see the most worn and well-used sections of the couch — where the leather is worn and the pillows are sagging. The kitchen table is visible, along with the incense resting in its center; sending plumes of smoke up into the air.
This chair is offering a new perspective, and isn’t that incredible? I changed my location and my posture, and my usual mental framework has been shaken up. The picture has been made new. How I’m existing, here, is different. However slight.
I wasn’t planning on sharing this with you tonight, but I can’t seem to write what I’m “supposed” to be writing about. Truth be told, I have four unfinished essays sitting on my laptop. All started and abandoned within the two weeks since I’ve last published.
They say that lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.
But, “they” are wrong. And lightning is, in fact, a repeat offender. It can strike, and strike again. The chances of being hit by a bolt of lightning are roughly 1 in 15,300. The chances of being hit twice are 1 in 960,000. No matter the number of zeros, the number is not impossible.
Do you think the same is true for miracles? And, miracle babies? Conceptions? Children? Can miracles touch us twice? Of course, I want to say yes. There is no limit on miracles, right? Roy Sullivan was struck by lightning seven times, so surely we can be struck by miracles twice.