Two Miracles

I realize that a miracle is supernatural,
And things that can be explained don’t count.
Yet sometimes divine providence
Is so personal and exact, it feels miraculous.

On our fourth anniversary, we went on a date,
The only date to celebrate the date thus far.
Two young sons at home with friends, we went
For Thai food, only to find a foot race in front and parking nonexistent.
Nevertheless, we persevered and walked the blocks,
Only to realize as we reached the stairs that we had no cash,
The only form of payment. Must we go home, hungry?

I glanced down, and a twenty caught my eye,
No one around to claim it.
More than enough to cover two meals in the food court.
God said, “Happy Anniversary.”

Years later, crammed into too small a space,
I put some books in storage. A son asked for one. Repeatedly.
And so I clambered over boxes and bags, searching for the box
That held Greek Myths. I couldn’t find it.
In despair, I put my head down on my arms and tears came to my eyes.
I just want to bless my son; will this, too, be denied?

I raised my head and there was the box,
Revealed where it had always been.
The palpable presence of God was in that place.
And then I truly cried, wracking sobs.
I was not forgotten, not forsaken.

Even the minor wishes of a young son,
Wanting to read about pagan gods
Were known, were granted.