Jalapeno Peppers

a 4 mile bike ride

$10

a juggle of plants and crossing traffic

a holler from down the street "check under your porch table"

There they were. A full bounty of jalapeno peppers waiting for my arrival.

I cried. A lot.

We are really good at normalizing the happenings of everyday life. Regardless of how absurd, broken, lavish -we stamp it as normal and move on. Anything but would leave us crying our eyes out with pepper plants in our hands.

Then again, what would it look like if we lived as if everything were a miracle? What if we let the dust settle and paused long enough to see it - the divine.

It was a cold December night, My friends and I met up to listen to one of my favorite local artists. She sang through ballads that made the whole room come to life. Her glitter dress sparkled rays of freedom. We danced through the night. I forgot how much I loved to dance.

The music stopped and the transition allowed us to catch our breath. During the pause of commotion, May shared, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." (credit to Albert Einstein)

My throat had been clenched for months. Maybe years.

It's all a miracle, after all.

So that is why I found myself crying as I picked up pepper plants left on my porch. Of course, you wouldn’t know the nuances of why that moment was a miracle. You wouldn't know that he has very little of anything. That he lives in the second story of a falling-apart house in a 10x10 room. You wouldn’t know that he stops by my garden in the summer and waters it daily. That this man, by buying these peppers, gave me his last and his best.

What a miracle.

I can't help but think of the poor widow. Who upon having nothing, gave her last, and gave everything. I've heard that story turned many ways, but I certainly never pictured myself on the receiving end of it. And yet, I am surrounded by people who give their last and their best every day.

I’m not just talking about poverty kinda miracles. Although, I have plenty of those stories too. I’m also thinking about my friend that is in the grip of depression and keeps showing up to work day after day. Miracle? Yes, I’d say so. I’m thinking about the women with whom I live. How their curls yell freedom as they step out of our front door. Miracle? Their lives? Yes. Breathtakingly, yes. I think about how this body, my body, has changed 98% of its atoms since last year. Change in my DNA a miracle? Thank God, yes. What about the rays of light that pierce through every single window of my home no matter the weather? Miracle? Really? Yes.

Every day, I get to see miracle after miracle as I step out on my front porch and watch my little garden, tended to by the kindest of gardeners, grow.

The choice is ours. And I’m choosing the fight to see the miracle in it all.