阅读理解
Sometimes just when we need the power of miracles to change
our beliefs, they materialize in the places we'd least expect. They can come to
us as a great change in our physical reality or as a simple coincidence in our
lives. Sometimes they're big and can't be missed. Other times they're so subtle
that if we aren't aware, we may miss them altogether. They can come from the
lips of a stranger we suddenly and mysteriously meet at just the right instant.
If we listen carefully, we'll always hear the right words, at the right time,
to dazzle (目眩)
us into a realization of something that we may have failed to notice only
moments before.
On a cold January afternoon in 1989, I was hiking up the
trail that leads to the top of Egypt's Mt. Horeb. I'd spent the day at St. Catherine's
Monastery and wanted to get to the peak by sunset to see the valley below. As I
was winding up the narrow path, I'd occasionally see other hikers who were
coming down from a day on the mountain. While they would generally pass with
simply a nod or a greeting in another language, there was one man that day who
did neither.
I saw him coming from the last switchback on the trail that
led to the backside of the mountain. As he got closer, I could see that he was
dressed differently from the other hikers I'd seen. Rather than the high-tech
fabrics and styles that had been the norm, this man was wearing traditional
Egyptian clothing. He wore a tattered, rust-colored galabia and obviously old
and thick-soled sandals that were covered in dust. What made his appearance so
odd, though, was that the man didn't even appear to be Egyptian! He was a
small-framed Asian man, had very little hair, and was wearing round,
wire-rimmed glasses.
As we neared one another, I was the first to speak, "Hello,"
I said, stopping on the trail for a moment to catch my breath. Not a sound came
from the man as he walked closer. I thought that maybe he hadn't heard me or
the wind had carried my voice away from him in another direction. Suddenly he
stopped directly in front of me on the high side of the trail, looked up from
the ground, and spoke a single sentence to me in English, "Sometimes you
don't know what you have lost until you've lost it." As I took in what I
had just heard, he simply stepped around me and continued his going down the
trail.
That moment in my life was a small miracle. The reason is
less about what the man said and more about the timing and the context. The
year was 1989, and the Cold War was drawing to a close. what the man on the
trail couldn't have known is that it was during my Egyptian pilgrimage (朝圣), and specifically during my hike to
the top of Moses's mountain, that I'd set the time aside to make decisions that
would affect my career in the defense industry, my friends, my family, and,
ultimately, my life.
I had to ask myself what the chances were of an Asian man
dressed in an Egyptian galabia coming down from the top of this historic
mountain just when I was walking up, stopping before me, and offering his
wisdom, seemingly from out of nowhere. My answer to my own question was
easy: the odds were slim to none! In a meet that lasted less than two minutes
on a mountain halfway around the world from my home, a total stranger had
brought clarity and the hint of a warning, regarding the huge changes that I
would make within a matter of days. In my way of thinking, that's a miracle.
I suspect that we all experience small miracles in our lives
every day. Sometimes we have the wisdom and the courage to recognize them for
what they are In the moments when we don't, that's okay as well. It seems that
our miracles have a way of coming back to us again and again. And each time
they do, they become a little less subtle, until we can't possibly miss
the message that they bring to our lives!
The key is that
they're everywhere and occur every day for different reasons, in response to
the different needs that we may have in the moment. Our job may be less about
questioning the extraordinary things that happen in our daily lives and more
about accepting the gifts they bring.