Several weeks ago I made a chickpea dish in a small metal pot on the stove and burnt the bottom of the pot into a dark grimy gritty black coating every square inch. I tried all sorts of cleaning products. I scrubbed until beads of sweat appeared on my forehead but the thick coat would not budge. I soaked it for three days in soapy water to try again, but nothing. Should I throw it away? I thought. It served me well for seven years, maybe today it just could do no more. I poured in some water and left it there. Each day as I cleaned dishes or scrubbed a pot I saw it sitting there. I changed the water but refused to touch it, each time tempted to chuck it in the trash. Then today, two weeks later, as I cleaned the pressure cooker from last night's dinner I emptied the water from the small pot and decided to try to clean it once more, one last time. This time this hard gritty exterior yielded like flour in my hands. Within minutes I stared at my shiny metal pot. And to think I almost gave up.
When I stood on the Lanai overlook in Hawaii and saw the waves crashing against the spires of ancient volcanic ashes I felt God's presence so close to me I felt enveloped in His embrace. Today as I consider this metal pot, how gritty it looked, how impossible it seemed to salvage, now shiny and new in my hands, I felt that same powerful presence because even in this tiny little pot, in this nondescript house amongst thousands of others, His signs abound.
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. -Albert Einstein