Minor Miracle

January 12, 2025

Last month, as Spring Green prepared to be swept up in the annual holiday whirlwind, I witnessed a miracle. I found myself in a warm room full of people one Friday night, with more of my fellow-citizens coming in all the time. And everyone who walked through the door was smiling.

This event took place not on another planet but less than a block from where I now sit. Darkness was still falling early with a vengeance before the winter solstice. Our world was the same then as it is now; none of us could claim blissful ignorance of the political mess to come. The folks I saw were genuinely happy in spite of it all. Even in the face of the uncertainty that has dogged our small tourist town since the pandemic, we still know how to have a good time.

My social and spiritual cups were overflowing. I drank it all in and then went home to sleep like a rock.

2024 brought a series of reminders that the people around me can be a great source of hope. On the night before this event, and for two nights after, I appeared onstage in a local production of It’s A Wonderful Life. My cast-mates and I were immersed in the tale of a community coming together to save a lost soul. The play wouldn’t have been far from my mind when I gazed out at this room full of smiles. Both experiences suggest that if we treat people well and welcome them in, they’ll find a way to return the favor.

I experienced my own George Bailey moment last summer, as I tried to leave a precarious housing situation. I was looking to move back “to town” in an area notorious for its housing shortage. After asking my community for help, I received dozens of suggestions and postings from all quarters. It’s doubtful that I would have found a place to go without their aid. I would still just be looking, still feeling trapped.

We can’t all afford to contribute money to our loved ones. Instead, we can offer help in other ways. Maybe we are called to help fill the room with smiles—to show up, no matter how dark it gets outside. We can cooperate to build a place where we don’t let the darkness in, and where we all occasionally burst out in song.