Small Miracles Still Happen

At the beginning of January I flew with my husband, Ben and the girls to meet our extended family in Cancun. I’m a nervous flyer. So when turbulence arose on our 7-hour flight , I quickly flipped through Audible for a calming book. I landed on “Meditations for Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself” by Dr. Joe Dispenza. In my very anxious state, I started working on moving into a more relaxed one. The end of the meditation had listeners ask for some kind of sign to show up that would reinforce the state you want to live into. Without thinking much about it, I asked that I’d meet someone in Mexico who would remind me to relax and have fun. Then we landed in Cancun and I promptly forgot about the plane ride meditation.

Fast forward to day three of our trip. It was fairly easy to relax in an all-inclusive resort, though on this particular afternoon I found myself a bit anxious. Ben and a few others were headed out on a bike ride, and since there were no tandem bicycles, Ben was helping me find a place to hang out by the pool. I was trying to orient myself to the space, locate the nearest restroom, etc to ease my anxiety. Just in case I couldn’t find it, I decided to make a pit stop before lounging by the pool. Ben was about to meet up with others at the bike rentals but waited outside the restroom in order to help me find a good spot to lounge while they biked.

I didn’t want to delay the biking group, so I quickly used the bathroom and was washing my hands when I felt my right ear clog up very suddenly. My body tensed as my brain computed that this is always the first sign of my vertigo attacks, something I’ve dealt with over the past 8 years. I knew that I had only seconds before the spinning would begin, and I didn’t want to be stuck int the bathroom without any way to tell Ben what was happening.

Without stopping to dry my hands, I bolted for the exit, knowing that if I could just make it outside, Ben would at lease be there to sit with me during the spinning in case I fell. I was about 4 steps from the door handle when the spinning hit me, however, so all I could do was turn and lean against the bathroom wall, gripping the flat surface as if handles might magically appear to grasp..

Just then the door opened, and I heard the voice of someone who sounded like a resort employee rushing toward me and grabbing my left hand. “Señora, you okay? You need medico?”

“No,” I managed. “Mi Esposo outside. It’s just vertigo.”

Suddenly I felt someone grasp my right hand and place her hand at the base of my skull.

“I know this is so scary. Vertigo is seriously the worst,” she began, pressing two of her fingers firmly into two points where my neck and skull converge. “But it’s just your eustachian tube filling up. If you press your head into my fingers as hard as you can, I promise you it will drain.” I did as the stranger instructed, suddenly feeling hyper-focused on my one task. Sure enough, my ear became unclogged and the spinning subsided.

“You medico?” The woman holding my left hand asked the woman holding my right.

“No,” she said and continued saying reassuring words to me that I cannot recall.

Once my adrenaline subsided, I thanked the woman on my right, who said her name was Julie. She offered to walk me outside and show my husband the pressure points she had used. I exited the bathroom sheepishly, introducing Ben to my new friend Julie, who quickly showed him the pressure points she had pressed, along with a couple others on my hand that could also help.

“How do you know all this?” I asked. “Are you in the medical field?”

“I’m an energy healer,” she said.

“Interesting,” I paused for a moment, wondering if she would explain further, before continuing. “I’m not sure what triggered this. Doctors have called it migrainous vertigo and gave me a list of foods to avoid. I don’t think I’ve had any chocolate or caffeine, so maybe it’s the extra sugar I’ve been eating.”

When Julie spoke next, her words almost made me fall over. “Well, it mostly comes from taking yourself and life too seriously. You need to relax and laugh more.”

“Well, I guess I was a bit anxious since my husband was leaving on a bike ride, knowing I’d be alone here at the pool. I have a visual impairment, so I get a little nervous in new, unfamiliar places when I’m by myself.” I explained.

“First, I want you to know that you’re never alone,” she said making a wide circular motion with her hands, “You are being watched over constantly.”

I nodded my head vaguely.

“I can tell you don’t fully believe me,” Julie went on. “Know that you don’t have to control life. God is in control. Vertigo episodes will happen maybe a few more times in your life, but once you find your life purpose, it won’t happen anymore.”

I nodded as I took in her words, biting my lip and wrinkling my brow as I tried to process what she was saying.

“And remember. You see a lot, maybe not with your eyes, but you see from here and here,” she motioned to her chest and stomach.

It’s hard to put an experience like this into words because it all comes out a bit flatter than it actually felt. I found myself hugging this stranger, crying and sharing the type of moment typically reserved for close loved ones.

It was only later, once Ben and his brother had left for the bike ride, that I began to really process the experience. As I floated serenely in the pool, the request I had made on the plane ride came back to me. I thought about how serendipitous events like these seemed to occur more when I was younger. I thought about why that might be but then just allowed myself to relax and not overthink it as I floated around the pool.

As I reflect on this now, a month later, I can’t help but wonder if at some point I began to expect less daily miracles. I often ask for the big ones— a relationship to heal or someone to be cured from cancer. But I forget to ask for the small chance encounters, those luminous nudges that remind us we’re all on this uniquely human journey together.

As Jenelle and I head out tonight on a train ride to meet up with our younger sister in Montana over mid-winter break, I plan to expect more small miracles along the way.

Please join me in anticipating luminous nudges in all of our lives.

As we become awake to these small miracles all around us, may we become more aware of their enormity.