That's the worst play on words, ever.
I'd been sitting in the back yard just enjoying the last of the sun as it glinted off the distant river. It was time to go in, so I took one last long look at what I consider to be the most beautiful place in the world, our chaotic, overgrown, unconventional and oh my dear Lord we thank you for the blessings generous back yard.
My gaze fell on one of the pear trees; there was something wedged in a V of the branches near the top. A pear! The tree was harvested weeks ago, and has been bare of its leaves for days, I don't know why neither of us saw that pear before. I fetched Paul, who laughed, got a broom and nudged it out. I caught it before it hit the ground, good thing too because it was so brown and soft it would have exploded.
Only the top looked as though it might be edible, and only a nibble at that, so nibble I did. Mmmm. The skin looked like it would peel off, so peel I did, gingerly, just enough to see inside the pear. I dipped a finger in, licked it. Wow that was some tasty stuff. Pear pudding! We took turns dipping our fingers into that pear, licked them and laughed. We were awed, grateful.
When nothing but the core remained I couldn't bear to not plant those big viable-looking seeds, so plant them I did, gently pressing what was left of the pear into the soil in the centre of the brick ring that I've made in the middle of the square bed, a bed where I've also sown the seeds of burdock and yellow dock and mallows and some carrots I allowed to bloom this summer (among other things). It's the 'we shall see' bed, the 'you never know, it might take' bed. It seemed the appropriate place.
The atheist, the unimaginative, the 'reasonable' person will say ah, your pear was simply happenstance. And yes, happenstance it certainly was. That makes it no less the miracle, the sweet and charming gift, the example that God Himself is sweet and charming and that He creates Creation to express that side of Himself to us. Please note I use the present tense with emphasis.
We can't measure miracles objectively. How could it be a 'greater' thing for the Lord to restore sight than it is to create a pear? The miracle is in the experience, whether or not it awakens wonder, whether or not it makes the mind turn to the heart and say 'ah, now I see'.
Miracles don't just make us fall to our knees in worship (although they do that too), sometimes they make us giggle with delight. Sometimes they make us cringe or even weep because some of them actually hurt. To learn the lesson of how downright stupid or blind we've been is a miracle too. It's merciful.
Keep showing me where I'm going wrong, Lord. Please keep showing me what I've missed.