Perpetual Miracles

As I was driving to look at a job yesterday, I got to thinking about the ultrasound we had last Friday.  I don't recall having an ultrasound that early for our son who is now 20 months old, but regardless, it is always amazing to see the origins of a child and what will some day a full grown adult.  Last Friday, at 2 months old, our child is about the size of a large marble, and by this week has doubled in size.  As I looked at that little sphere of DNA with a little beating heart already, there is part of me that can't fathom how it can grow into the child that I see running around everyday in our house.  It just doesn't seem possible to me, yet with every week that goes by in pregnancy, our child (yes I am calling it our child as that is what it is) grows exponentially, develops its features, and grows a brain capable of navigating it through this crazy world of ours.  Can you see hands or feet at 8 weeks old?  No, but you can see the brain distinctly developing and there is no doubt about it when you see that little speck of a heart beating away.  That's our child.  Just the fact that it will double in size every week over the next few weeks is amazing to me.  At 8 weeks old, the umbilical cord isn't even attached yet, there is simply an ethereal sphere surrounding it that provides everything it needs at this point.  Its almost like watching a fluttering pinball float around in a buoyant solution.  I don't understand all the science behind how it all works, and I don't need to.  All I need to know is that our child is in there and growing, and to me, its a miracle how it all works.  I think that even if I saw the same image every day of a tiny child like that growing, I would still be amazed.  Yet that is me.  I get amazed at the little things that aren't so easily explained.  Even just looking at our son from the time he was born till now, not even two years old yet, the differences are so drastic that at times I can't believe that he was that small or looked the way he did.  The exciting part is that I get to go through it again. 

 

How often do we fail to get amazed at the little pleasures in life, the little miracles that occur around us every day.  Also yesterday, as I was driving home from looking at that job, I was treated to another little miracle, that of the firefly.  I don't know how many adults still derive pleasure at seeing a host of fireflies drifting through an evening sky, but I am one of them.  It was right around dusk, that time of night where everything seems to turn to black except the sky which holds on to that little bit of deep blue that says "I'm not ready for night yet".  The sun is gone, the moon may be up, and everything has a hint of gray to it, when the fireflies begin to appear, those little golden orbs that blink on and off, and on and off.  No steady pattern, just randomly dotting your field of vision.  I was treated to a host of them last night, not a swarm by any means, but definitely more than I have seen in a long time.  They were everywhere I looked, in front, to the side, and they just kept on blinking away, ushering in the inevitable evening.  It was such a beautiful sight to behold I almost stopped in the middle of the road just so I could watch them without concentrating on driving.  But I didn't as there were cars coming up behind me.  Such is life, I enjoyed the view while I could and did my best not to swerve too much.  On the same note of being amazed, the road I drove down to get to the job I looked at was one I had never been on before.  Its up in Middlebury, just north of I-84 bordering Lake Quassapog (I think that's how its spelled).  It was one of the most bucolic roads I have been on rimmed with stone walls, elegant old houses set back from the road, uncut fields of tall grass, and all perched overlooking an amazing vista.  I looked off to the side and down below was the lake with a seemingly perpetual view of green hills beyond, one after another, after another.  I thought to myself, "I could live here in a tent and never leave."  Yet I would get kicked out by one of the home owners I am sure.  On top of that, even if I wanted to live there, I probably could never afford to.  Yet just driving down that small section of road made my heart rise a little bit, made me feel like I was in England perhaps, and that all was good with the world.  I guess there is just something about stone walls, fields of tall grass, and beautiful views that touches a soft spot within me.  Yet another little miracle, if only we take the time to look.