Baffled by Miracles

imagesCAVP7MLPTwo days ago as I swept the floor in my workroom, I saw a small dark packet on the floor. I picked it up, having no idea where it came from. The packet was, in actuality, a Ziploc storage bag with another smaller packet inside. The dark material inside the smaller packet looked like old wood slivers and crumbled dust. I shook it down, turned it over, and I found the picture of an old friend.

This was the last packet of three packets I bought in Mexico in 1985. I was in Mexico making a movie and had a day off so went down to the market and bought three of these packets of picture and incense. Not reading Spanish very well, other than making out words for prayers or luck or money, I took them to my hairdresser. Que es? I asked.

Many of you have, perhaps, heard the story of the hairdresser who was, in reality, a curendera or healer, and who took me out beyond a pile of boulders as big as a house to kneel in the desert night. She blessed me and the packets, chanting, praying. The packets stayed warm for hours. Gloria’s style of healing is what’s called an orasionista (think oration) who heals with words and energy. Because of that experience, I ended going back to Mexico and living there three years.

I thought I’d lost it. I knew I’d given two away to friends who had problems, but I’d kept this one of San Martin de Caballero. I’d figured I could use someone with a helping hand.

Oddly enough, as if that weren’t enough, a couple of weeks ago, working on my writing, a memoir that contains parts of my Mexico life, including the blessing by Gloria, I thought of this packet of powder and wondered where it had gone to. Perhaps to someone more in need than I.

Two days ago, he galloped back into my life to lay at my feet the proverbial cloak of protection. I have no idea where he came from, but he came.

I’m always baffled when miracles come into my life, and I’ve had many. My husband is one. The Little House on the farm another. Many times I’ve been blessed by miracles and each time I’m as baffled as I was the night I knelt on the cold, stony ground and felt the energy from Gloria’s hands heat the three packets of powder I held in my outstretched hands.

I am now the orationista, the one who heals with words and the energy. And I’ve often wondered, after I was ordained twelve years later, if Gloria received a message too, one that said hacerlo! Do this.

Here is some of the story of Don Martin and why he became a saint thanks to information in Wikipedia. If you’re curious, there’s much more on the site. Just search San Martin Caballero. Don Martin, the horse rider. And a legend based on generosity and kindness.

Martin of Tours (316 – 8 November 397) was Bishop of Tours, whose shrine in France became a famous stopping-point for pilgrims on the road to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Around his name much legendary material accrued, and he has become one of the most familiar and recognizable Christian saints.

The Legend: While Martin was a soldier in the Roman army and deployed in Gaul (modern-day France), he experienced a vision, which became the most-repeated story about his life. One day as he was approaching the gates of the city of Amiens, he met a scantily clad beggar. He impulsively cut his military cloak in half to share with the man. That night, Martin dreamed of Jesus wearing the half-cloak he had given away.


The Daily Post: Back of the Queue

Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to starting?

What an interesting question, let alone prompt. It came out on July 1st, and I grinned and shook my head. No. There’s nothing I haven’t wanted to do that I haven’t done.

I’ve made visual arts and movie arts and writing arts. I’ve lived in Hawaii and Mexico and Europe. I’ve run businesses and I’ve failed at some. Succeeded at others (never could make visual arts work but I have made movies and writing successful to one degree or another). So what haven’t I started.

Well, for one, I’ve not taken the first step in walking the Elysian Way. I’m not even sure it exists anymore. Walking through Ephesus would be cool, however, and I’ve not gotten around to that, either.

Courtesy Wikipedia



I’ve wanted to climb the white layers of Santorini, and visit the monasteries on Mount Athos, but only men are allowed on the Holy Mountain and a sex change seems a step I’m not likely to begin.

Courtesy Wikipedia
Courtesy Wikipedia

In fact, traveling the Aegean Coast is still on the bucket-list. But that dream may go the way of my mother’s dream to travel to Africa. She traveled a lot, too, but never made it there. She did, however, manage an ocean cruise in the Pacific. So there’s hope. I did make it as far as Dubrovnik in Yugoslavia (when there was still a Yugoslavia and Dubrovnik a beautiful city) but not to Greece.

And if we’re talking travel, I’d like to “do” northern England and see the land where the Sunderlands came from. Oh, and Warsaw. That’s Poland, not Indiana. Cliff’s family is from Warsaw.

So, yeah. I’m pretty fortunate in the doing category. But as you might guess, doing everything you’ve wanted to do usually means, or at least it means in my case, never having a full-time job. Never having a full-time job means you’re short on the dollar category and long on dreams. Traveling to fanciful lands usually takes dollars. Dreams are free. Ergo.

That is what, dear readers, keeps me from following up on those to-dos.

But there’s always miracles.