Montreal Miracles

Barbara: Okay, so unlike Deb, my respite did not include Bobbies or castles or high tea or long discovery walks (or, for that matter, emergency flights home). But I had my own little adventure last weekend. I went to Montreal to visit my daughter for her 18^th birthday. And she welcomed me (us)! That’s right. She was happy to see me (us). And what a visit we had.

You know how some days or weeks (or years) are just filled with upsets and disturbances and shocks and tragedies, and some days or weeks just seem infused with a sort of magic? Such have these last few weeks been for me. It’s been one awesome or tiny miracle after another. And I am full of the kind of gratitude that comes from such loveliness. You know, where you kinda tear up every now and then because it feels so frickin’ good.

So to start, here are my Montreal miracles. First of all, our schedule was such that we had to drive 6 hours from Toronto and then get Michele from school and then get her home to change and then drive through Friday night downtown traffic to get to the restaurant where we were celebrating her birthday with her Montreal-based family (her grandparents). By some miracle of timing we arrived at her university campus at exactly 5:30, the exact moment she finished a rough cut of a film project she is doing for class, and just in time to be allowed access into the lab, just in time to meet the rest of her (talented and adorable) work-group and, MOST importantly, just in time to get to watch their masterful real-film film spooling through the old-timey editing board. The film was pure genius. The whole experience, truly amazing.

After that we took her home to change and for Phil to do some handyman fix-ups in her apartment and then we get to the restaurant … with not one minute to spare on our 7:30 reservation. Not only are my and Phil’s parents there, but we also get to visit my aunt—who lives across the country and who we rarely see—who was, as luck would have it, in Montreal. Her trip––her first in 18years!––completely coincidentally happened to coincide with ours. So on Michele’s birthday dinner, M was able to celebrate with not only her grandparents but her great-aunt as well. Man, did we have a wonderful night. We ordered one of those prix-fixe dinners where they just bring you dish upon dish without you having to do annoying stuff like flip through menu pages and stare at dish descriptions and pick and choose. We went to a great Montreal restaurant called Alep, and were served by a diligent, cheeky guy named Eric who took care of every detail before and during. The food is Syrian, which is much like Lebanese food but with different spicing. It is so so so yummy!

The next set of mini miracles is kinda ironic because Phil and I are spiritual but not religious. It all started when we went to visit Phil’s grandmother who is recovering in hospital from a fall. We got to connect with her and also with Phil’s uncle and aunt who were there and who we always love to see. 

Turns out the hospital is right beside the Roman Catholic church where Phil got his first first communion. Yes, first first. Apparently the Greek Catholic church where he was baptized as a baby didn’t count this communion, implied it didn’t take or something, and lo, the kid had to have a second first communion. (btw, Phil decrees the host at the Greek Catholic church as way better, not a thin wafer but real actual bread.) So then, after reminiscing about this old family history, a very good friend of mine (an angel, as it were) happened to be in town and I got to see not only her but to meet her beloveds for the first time after years of friendship, including her wonderful husband and her very good friend—a Roman Catholic priest … who began his life in the priesthood at, you guessed it, the same little church as Phil’s first first communion. It’s a small coincidence maybe (although Montreal has literally hundreds of churches, so not really so small a coincidence), but to me it felt hugely wonderful.

Lately they—these small miracles—seem to be literally everywhere I look. OR, everywhere I look I’m seeing—not coincidences or serendipity or chance—but benevolent miracles. I just wanted to share that with you.

Is it just me right now or are you also experiencing your own surprise of miracles?

Deb: Barb, what an amazing time you have had, filled with gifts and miracles. I have my own miracle to share. Looks like my Mother is not going to lose her leg to amputation. They did say “never say never” and she and we must be diligent, but for now she is safe. Even two days ago it did not seem so. To quote a lovely song from Rogers and Hammerstein’s Flower Drum Song: “One hundred million miracles are happening every day."