clean slate

Musings on recent lurking about.

There are two schools of thought out there:

1) I'm part of a miraculous process, and see, it all serves to affirm my pathology. Yup, I'm right, I'm entrenched, I'm toxic, and there's this miracle in my life. No need to change anything about me at all. The miracle is here to support my pathology, proves I've been right all along.

2) I'm part of a miraculous process, warts and all. And isn't it wonderful. Now we can all grow together. Miracles happen, they wipe the moment clean and you will never be the same again! Isn't that the point of miracles anyway? To be instantaneously transformed?

Um, guess who's miracle kid has a chance to grow up into her own life? And not be forever crippled into the role of mirroring mom's pathology?

Makes me wonder, miracle babies aside, what it feels like to consciously process the miracle at hand. Not like Moses running crazy in the hills after seeing the shadow of God walk by. No, feeling it right there, straight to the heart, washing me clean.

Hmmm. Let's process that for a few days. My heart's ready.