PRIVATE MIRACLES

If there’s one word that gets ample use in December it’s ”miracle”- ¬ from the Chanukah phenomenon of oil to the litany of events leading to Christmas. We also tend to apply that label to miscellaneous things .(?My gift arrived in time – a miracle!”) But what does that word really mean? Turning to Webster I discovered that miracle is defined as “an extraordinary event,” usually with Divine assistance.
We overlook the fact that these phenomenal events may also occur with some help from us. “Make a miracle and marry me,” runs the lovelorn refrain in the old musical “Where’s Charley?”” This plea assumes that the object of affection has the power to make a miracle occur. But what are the limits? We can’t bring a loved one back to life, but what about resuscitating a seemingly dead relationship ? For personal ties don’t necessarily end with our mortality, but often in a burst of pent-up anger or the fog of misunderstanding, or they simply expire from neglect. “Some of my losses are still walking around,” a woman told me. She wasn’t referring to ghostly figures, but her divorced husband and estranged daughter. Losses that may be beyond our ability to repair.
Or are they?
A teacher I interviewed spoke about her prickly relationship with her sister. For most of their lives they tried to avoid each other. But when they were older they not only got together more often, but even managed to vacation together successfully. “We both love going to the mountains and we’re both vegetarians,” she told me. “ So I learned to maximize our overlap and let the rest go.”
That’s what I learned to do with my own sister. We had a close relationship, but it was as up-and-down as a roller-coaster.. We had grown up in a family where we competed for every scrap of affection or attention. As adults our love always had the static of competitiveness. Yet as we aged and were both widowed I faced the reality that she was my sole sibling, and the two of us were the only ones left of our original family. There was no one else I shared certain memories with or could ask,”Remember when…?” Swallowing my pride ,(why do I have to be the one to reach out?) I sent her a holiday card, and wote on it “I miss you.” I waited for sarcasm or ,worse, silence. But what arrived two days later was a simple Email: “I miss you, too.” It wasn’t perfect – what is? ¬¬¬¬¬- but we reclaimed the closeness we’d lost, with the wisdom to hold it gently. I’m grateful that we did, for my sister died three years ago. Her birthday is coming soon. (Ironically, she’ll never know the birthdate is now historic -¬January 6..)
I’m aware that reconciliation isn’t always possible and that it take two to navigate the shoals. Bringing any relationship back to life requires the strength to reach out without probing every wound., the willingness to see beyond the fog of accumulated resentments, and the wisdom to value what remains. Developing the ability to do this can be our personal miracle.
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WEBSITE: WWW.annehosansky.com