By Caroline Muir

broken glassThe Divine works in ways I will never understand, but the following true account made me a believer forevermore.

The plush carpeting in my home stopped at the entry to the dining room where the floor had been redone and covered with cream marble tiles that my friends acquired in a “great deal” and shipped to Maui from Bali. It created a kitchen and dining room floor one could nearly see herself in as the stone was polished to a clear shine.

During an event in my home, the forty-two inch round glass coffee table was moved out of the living room and placed safely between the dining table and the sliding glass doors that had a great view of the Pacific Ocean.

The carved wooden sea horses that supported the glass top were perched in their familiar grouping along with couches and chairs that lined the perimeter of the grand living room, minus their glass top.

After the event ended, my friends offered to move the furniture back and I tiredly commented, “Let’s do it in the morning!” Off they went in the tropical night air while I felt the delicious emptiness of the house once the thirty-eight guests happily strolled or drove home from the lovely Puja ceremony. Slipping into a soft cotton night-gown, I strolled through the dining room to close the sliding glass doors from the ever-present trade winds, feeling the cool marble under foot. Somehow, I lost my balance and fell backwards, unable to stop my descent directly down into the center of the low glass  table.

The crash of breaking glass resounded throughout the night. I found myself tightly nestled within shards of sharply pointed glass, instantly realizing that any move on my part to escape any deep and dangerous cuts meant that I must freeze into stillness. And so I did. Gazing around at the impossible situation I found myself in, I yelled many “Help” cries into the silent night. Soon I realized that I was trapped in what appeared to be crystals of lethal beauty.

Now was the time to go deep inside. My panicked heavy breathing would do me no good. No one was near and no one would hear my cries. I closed my eyes. I spoke with God/Goddess and handed my situation over to All- That-Is. Years of meditation practice served me well, as I was able to empty my mind of the helpless fear that could have consumed me and for some moments… did.

It seemed as though I slept, so deep was my stillness. I definitely went unconscious and left my body in its trapped ocean of terminal beauty.

And then what happened, you may ask?

Perhaps a full hour passed. My next conscious moment was finding myself standing upright on the carpeted floor, a good six feet from my glass cocoon. I felt my skin, looked around at the darkened house, listened carefully for the sound of my breathing, wiggled my toes into the plush cream beneath my feet, and looked over my shoulder at where I had been in utter disbelief. At that moment, however… I believed.

A ‘miracle’ such as this humbled me to my knees. I couldn’t move once again, though now I was surrounded only by the soft night air. I decided to tuck this story deep within me so as not to deflate the feeling that a miracle of sorts had just saved my life.

Slowly, I stood upright and very deliberately walked to the other sliding glass doors, closing them against the cool nightly trades. Humbly gliding toward my bed, I slid between my sheets and lay my head upon my pillow, as if I were an angel resting from the days’ tasks, tired yet wired. I eventually drifted into slumber, knowing that I would never be quite the same again. Perhaps miracles happen every day, but this was an evening of great magnitude for me. I was saved… I was still needed… I was loved. My connection to the Divine was and always will be… a Miracle.